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BISHOP BUTLER'S 



ETHICAL DISCOURSES, 



AND 



ESSAY ON VIRTUE. 

)0 ARRANGED 



AS A TREATISE ON MORAL PHILOSOPHY; 



AND EDITED, WITH AN ANALYSIS, 

BY J. T. CHAjNIPLIN, D.D., 

PRESIDENT OP WATERVILLE COLLEGE. 




BOSTON: 
JOHN P. JET7ETT AND CO jM PA NY. 

CLEVELAND, OHIO : 

HENRY P. B. JEWETT. 

NEW YORK: SHELDON & CO. 
1 85 9. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by 
JOHN P. JEWETT AND COMPANY, 
In the Clerk's OfSice of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts. 



LITHOTYPED BYt COWLES AND COMPANY, 
17 WASHINGTON ST., BOSTON. 



Printed by Geo. C. Rand and Avery. 



PREFATOM NOTE BY THE EDITOR. 



I OFFER no apology for attempting to present to the public 
in a more convenient form the views of confessedly the pro- 
foundest and most satisfactory writer on morals in the English 
language. Coming down to us chiefly in the form of sermons, 
and scattered through his works without any regard to their 
natural order, these profound treatises have been entirely una- 
vailable for common use. "Whereas, by simply dropping the 
peculiarities of the sermons, as such, and arranging them, with 
the Dissertation on Virtue, in chapters and sections, quite a 
complete and orderly system of morals immediately emerges. 
This is what has been here attempted. 

In the further prosecution of my editorial labors, I have added 
a few notes, divided some of the longer paragraphs (after the ex- 
ample of Dr.^Whewell, in his edition of several of Butler's 
sermons), and prefixed to each paragraph its subject. As 
these changes have been made solely for the purpose of facili- 
tating the progress of the student, I trust they will not be con- 
sidered an unwarrantable meddling with the author. 

Living a single man, — wedded to science alone, — and from 

ill 



iv 



PREFATORY NOTE. 



his singularly sensitive and modest nature holding but little in- 
tercourse with others, the life of Butler presents but few inci- 
dents. These, with an appreciative estimate of his character 
and genius, are well presented in the following biographical 
sketch, hj Professor Rogers, author of the " Eclipse of Faith," 
etc., taken from the Encyclopcedia Britannica. 



JOSEPH BUTLEE. 



Joseph Butlee, Bishop of Durham, — one of the most 
profound and original thinkers this or any other countrj ever 
produced, — well deserves a place among the dii majores of 
English philosophy; with Bacon, Newton, and Locke. 

The following brief sketch will comprise an outline of his 
life and character, some remarks on the peculiarity of his 
genius, and an estimate of his principal writings. 

He was born at Wantage, in Berkshire, May 18, 1692. 
His father, Thomas Butler, had been a linen-draper in that 
town, but before the birth of Joseph, who was the youngest of 
a family of eight, had relinquished business. He continued to 
reside at Wantage, however, at a house called the Priory, 
which is still shown to the curious visitor. 

Young Butler received his first instructions from the Rev. 
Philip Barton, a clergyman, and master of the grammar 
school at Wantage. The father, who was a Presbyterian, was 
anxious that his son, who early gave indications of capacity, 
should dedicate himself to the ministry in his own communion, 
and sent him to a Dissenting academy at Gloucester, then kept 
by Mr. Samuel Jones. "Jones," says Professor Fitzgerald 
with equal truth and justice, " was a man of no mean ability or 
erudition ; " and adds, with honorable liberality, could num- 
ber among his scholars many names that might confer honor 
on any university in Christendom."* He instances among 

* Life of Butler, prefixed to Professor Titzgerald's very valuable edi- 
tion of the Analogij, Dublin, 1849. The memoir is derived chiefly from 
Mr. Bartlett's more copious "Life ; " it is very carefully compiled, and 
is frequently cited in the present article. 



6 



JOSEPH BUTLER. 



others Jeremiali Jones, the author of the excellent work on the 
Canon; Seeker, afterw'ards Archbishop of Canterbury; and 
two of the most learned, acute, and candid apologists for Chris- 
tianity England has produced, — Nathaniel Lardner and Sam- 
uel Chandler. 

The academy was shortly afterwards removed to Tewkes- 
bury. "While yet there, Butler first displayed his extraordi- 
nary aptitude for metaphysical speculation in the letters he sent 
to Clarke on two supposed flaws in the reasoning of the recently 
published a 'priori demonstrations ; one respecting the proof of 
the Divine omnipreseyice, and the other respecting the proof of 
the unity of the " necessarily existent Being." It is but just to 
Clarke to say that his opponent subsequently surrendered both 
objections. Whether the capitulation be judged strictly the 
result of logical necessity, will depend on the estimate formed 
of the value of Clarke's proof of the truths in question, — truths 
which are happily capable of being shown to be so, indepen- 
dently of any such a priori metaphysical demonstration. In 
this encounter, Butler showed his modesty not less than his 
prowess. He was so afraid of being discovered, that he em- 
ployed his friend Seeker to convey his letters to the Gloucester 
post-office, and to bring back the answers. 

About this time he began to entertain doubts of the propriety 
of adhering to his father's Presbyterian opinions, and conse- 
quently, of entering the ministry of that communion ; doubts 
which at length terminated in his joining the Church of Eng- 
land. His father, seeing all opposition vain, at length consented 
to his repairing to Oxford, where he was entered as a com- 
moner of Oriel College, March 17, 1714. Here he early 
formed an intimate friendship with Mr. Edward Talbot, the 
second son of Bishop of Durham, a connection to which his 
future advancement was in a great degree owing. 

The exact period at which Butler took orders is not known, 
but it must have been before 1717, as by that date he was oc- 
casionally supplying Talbot's living, at Hendred, near Wantage, 



JOSEPH BUTLER. 



7 



In 1718, at the age of twenty-six, he was nominated preacher 
at the Eolls, on the united recommendation of Talbot and Dr. 
Samuel Clarke. 

At this time the country was in a ferment. "What is called 
the " Bangorian Controversy," and which originated in a ser- 
mon of Bishop Hoadley, " On the Nature of Christ's Kingdom " 
(a discourse supposed to imperil "all ecclesiastical authority"), 
was then raging. One pamphlet which that voluminous con- 
troversy called forth has been attributed to Butler. " The ex- 
ternal evidence, however is," as Mr. Fitzgerald judges, "but 
slight ; and the internal for the negative at least equally so." 
The writer says, " On the whole, I feel unable to arrive at any 
positive decision on the subject." Readers curious respecting 
it may consult Mr. Fitzgerald's pages, where they will find a 
detail of the circumstances which led to the publication of the 
pamphlet, and the evidence for and against its being attributed 
to Butler. 

In 1721, Bishop Talbot presented Butler with the living of 
Haughton, near Dorkington, and Seeker (who had also relin- 
quished nonconformity, and after some considerable fluctuations 
in his religious views, had at length entered the Church), with 
that of Haugton-le-Spring. In 1725, the same liberal patron 
transferred Butler to the more lucrative benefice of Stanhope. 

He retained his situation of preacher at the Rolls till the 
following year (1726) ; and before quitting it, published the 
celebrated Fifteen Sermons delivered there ; among the most 
profound and original discourses which philosophical theologian 
ever gave to the world. As these could have been but a por- 
tion of those he preached at the Rolls, it has often been asked 
what could become of the remainder ? We agree with Mr. Fitz- 
gerald in thinking that the substance of many was afterwards 
worked into the Analogy. That many of them were equally 
important with the Fifteen may be inferred from Butler's de- 
claration in the preface, — that the selection of these had been 
determined by " circumstances in a great measure accidental." 



8 



JOSEPH BUTLER. 



At Iiis death, Butler desired his manuscripts to be destroyed ; 
this he would hardly have done, had he not already rifled their 
chief treasures for his great work. Let us hope so at all 
events ; for it would be provoking to think that discourses of 
equal value with the Fifteen had been wantonly committed to 
the flames. 

After resigning his preachership at the Rolls, he retired to 
Stanhope, and gave himself up to study and the duties of a 
parish priest. All that could be gleaned of his habits and mode 
of life there has been preserved by the present Bishop of Exe- 
ter, his successor in the living of Stanhope eighty years after ; 
and it is little enough. Tradition said that " Rector Butler 
rode a black i^ony, and always rode very fast; that he was 
loved and respected by all his parishoners ; that he lived very 
retired, was very kind, and could not resist the importunities 
of common beggars, who, knowing his infirmity, pursued him 
so earnestly as sometimes to drive him back into his house as 
his only escape." The last fact the bishop reports doubtful ; 
but Butler's extreme benevolence is not so. 

In ail probability, Butler in this seclusion was meditating 
and digesting that great work on which his fame, and what is 
better than fame, his usefulness, principally rests, the Analogy. 
" In a similar retirement," says Professor Fitzgerald, " The 
Ecclesiastical Polity of Hooker, The Intellectual System of 
Cudworth, and The Divine Legation of Warburton — records 
of genius ' vrhich posterity will not willingly let die ' — were 
ripened into maturity." Queen Caroline once asked Arch- 
bishop Blackburne whether Butler was not " dead ? " " No," 
said he, " but he is hurled'' It was well for posterity that he 
was thus, for a while, entombed. 

He remained in this mejditative seclusion seven years. At 
the end of this period, his friend Seeker, who thought Butler's 
health and spirits were failing under excess of solitude and 
study, succeeded in dragging him from his retreat. Lord 
Chancellor Talbot, at Seeker's solicitation, appointed him his 



JOSEPH BUTLEE. 



9 



chaplain in 1733; and in 1736 a prebendary of Rochester. 
In the same year, Queen Caroline, who thought her court de- 
rived as much lustre from philosophers and divines as from 
statesmen and courtiers — who had been the delighted spectator 
of the argumentative contests of Clarke and Berkely, Hoadley 
and Sherlock — appointed Butler clerk of the closet, and com- 
manded his " attendance every evening from seven till nine." 

It was in 1736 that the celebrated Analogy was published, 
and its great merits immediately attracted public attention. It 
was perpetually in the hands of his royal patroness, and passed 
through several editions before the author's death. Its greatest 
praise is that it has been almost universally read, and never 
answered. " I am not aware," says Mr. Fitzgerald, " that any 
of those whom it would have immediately concerned, have 
ever attempted a regular reply to the Analogy ; but particular 
parts of it have met with answers, and the whole, as a whole, 
has been sometimes unfavorably criticized." Of its merits, and 
precise position in relation " to those whom it immediately con- 
cerns," we shall speak presently. 

Some strange criticisms on its general character in Tholuck's 
Vermischte Scriften^ showing a singular infelicity in missing 
Butler's true stand-punht,'^ as Tholuck's own countrymen 
would say, and rather unreasonably complaining of obscurity, 
considering the quality of German theologico-philosophical 
style in general, are well disposed of by Professor Fitzgerald 
(pp. 47-50). 

About this time Butler had some correspondence with Lord 
Kaimes, on the Evidences of Natural and Revealed Religion. 
Kaimes requested a personal interview, which Butler declined 
in a manner very characteristic of his modesty and caution. 
It was, " on the score of his natural' diffidence and reserve, his 
being unaccustomed to oral controversy, and his fear that the 
cause of truth might thence suffer from the unskilfulness of its 
advocate." 

Hume was a kinsman of Lord Kaimes, and when preparing 



10 



JOSEPH BUTLER. 



his treatise of Human Nature for the press, was recommended 
by Lord Kaimes to get Butler's judgment on it. " Your 
thoughts and mine," says Hume, " agree with respect to Dr. 
Butler, and I should be glad to be introduced to him." The 
interview, however, never took place, nor was Butler's judg- 
ment obtained. One cannot help speculating on the possible 
consequences. Would it have made any difference ? 

In the year 1737, Queen Caroline died, but on her death-bed 
recommended her favorite divine to her husband's care. In 
1738, Butler was accordingly made Bishop of Bristol, in place 
of Dr. Gooch, who was translated to Norwich. This seems to 
have been a politic stroke of Walpole, " who probably thought" 
says Fitzgerald, " that the ascetic rector of Stanhope was too 
unworldly a person to care for the poverty of his preferment, 
or perceive the slight which it implied." In the reply, how- 
ever, in which Butler expresses his sense of the honor conferred, 
he shows that he understood the position of matters very clearly. 
The hint he gave seems to have had its effect, for in 17-40 the 
King nominated him to the vacant Deanery of St. Pauls, 
whereupon he resigned Stanhope, which he had hitherto held in 
commendam. The revenues of Bristol, the poorest see, did not 
exceed £400. 

A curious anecdote of Butler has been preserved by his do- 
mestic chaplain. Dr. Tucker, afterwards Dean of Gloucester. 
He says : " His custom was, when at Bristol, to walk for hours 
in his garden in the darkest night which the time of year could 
afford, and I had frequently the honor to attend him. After 
walking some time, he would stop suddenly and ask the ques- 
. tion, ' What security is there against the insanity of individ- 
uals ? The physicians know of none, and as to divines, we 
have no data, either from Scripture or from reason, to go upon 
in relation to this affair.' — ' True, My Lord, no man has a lease 
of his understanding any more than of his life ; they are both 
in the hands of the Sovereign Disposer of all things.' He 
would then take another turn, and again stop short: 'Wliy 



JOSEPH BUTLER. 



11 



might not whole communities and public bodies be seized with 
fits of insanity, as well as individuals ? ' — ^ My Lord, I have 
never considered the case, and can give no opinion concerning 
it.' — ' Nothing but this principle, that they are liable to insanity 
equally at least with private persons, can account for the major 
part of those transactions of which we read in history.' I 
thought little of that odd conceit of the bishop at that juncture ; 
but I own I could not avoid thinking of it a great deal since, 
and applying it to many cases." 

In 1747, on the death of Archbishop Potter, it is said that 
the primacy was offered to Butler, who declined it, with the 
remark that " it was too late for him to try to support a falling 
church." If he really said so, it must have been in a moment 
of despondency, to which his constitutional melancholy often 
dispos(^d him. No such feeling, at all events, prevented his 
accepting the bishopric of Durham in 1750, on the death of 
Dr. Edward Chandler. About the time of his promotion to 
this dignity, he was engaged in a design for consolidating and 
extending the Church of England in the American Colonies. 
With this object he drew up a plan marked by his characteris- 
tic moderation and liberality ; the project, however, came to 
nothing. 

Soon after his translation to the see of Durham, Butler de- 
livered and published his charge on the Use and Importance 
of External Religion, which gave rise, in conjunction with his 
erection of a " white marble cross " over the communion table 
in his chapel at Bristol, and one or two other slight circum- 
stances, to the ridiculous and malignant charge of popery ; — 
a charge, as Mr. Fitzgerald observes, " destitute of a shadow 
of positive evidence, and contradicted by the whole tenor of 
Butler's character, life, and writings." 

The revenues from his see were lavishly expended in the 
support of public and private charities,* while his own- mode 

* Butler must have been of a naturally munificent as well as benevolent 
disposition. lie was extremely fond, it appears, of planning and building ; 



12 



JOSEPH BUTLEE. 



of life was most simple and unostentatious. Of the frugality 
of his table, the following anecdote is proof: — "A friend of 
mine, since deceased, told me," says the Rev. John Newton, 
" that when he was a young man, he once dined with the late 
Dr. Butler, at that time Bishop of Durham ; and, though the 
guest was a man of fortune, and the interview by appointment, 
the provision was no more than a joint of meat and a pudding. 
The bishop apologized for his plain fare, by saying, that it was 
his way of living ; ' that he had long been disgusted with the 
fashionable expense of time and money in entertainments, and 
was determined that it should receive no countenance from his 
example.' " No prelate ever owed less to politics for his ele- 
vation, or took less part in them. If he was not " wafted to his 
see of Durham," as Horace Walpole ludicrously said, " on a 
cloud of metaphysics," he certainly was not carried there by 
political intrigue or party manoeuvres. He was never known 
to speak in the House of Peers, though constant in his attend- 
ance there. 

He had not long enjoyed his new dignity before symptoms 
of decay disclosed themselves. He repaired to Bath in 1752, 
in the hope of recovering his health, Avhere he died, June 16, 
in the sixtieth year of his age. 

His face was thin, and pale, but singularly expressive of 
placidity and benevolence. " His white hair," says Hutchin- 
son,* " hung gracefully on his shoulders, and his whole figure 
was patriarchal." He was buried in the cathedral of Bristol, 
where two monuments have been erected to his memory. They 
record in suitable inscriptions (one in Latin by his chaplain, 

a passion not always very prudently indulged, or without danger, in early 
days, of involving him in difSculties ; from which indeed, on one occasion 
Seeker's intervention saved him. He spent large sums in improv- 
ing his various residences. It was probably in the indulgence of the love 
of ornamentation to which this passion led, that the "marble cross " and 
other imprudent symbols which were so ridiculously adduced to support 
the charge of popery originated. 

History of Durham, vol. I. p. 578 ; cited in Fitzgerald's "Life." 



JOSEPH BUTLER. 



13 



Dr. Foster, and the other in English by tlie late Dr. Sou they) 
his virtues and genius. Though epitaphs, they speak no more 
than simple truth. 

A singular anecdote is recorded of his last moments. As 
Mr. Fitzgerald observes, " it wants direct testimony," but is in 
itself neither uninstructive nor incredible, for a dying hour has 
often given strange vividness and intensity to truths neither 
previously unknown nor uninfluential. It is generally given 
thus : ' When Bishop Butler lay on his death-bed, he called 
for Jiis chaplain, and said, ' Though I have endeavored to avoid 
sin, and to please God to the utmost of my power ; yet, from 
the consciousness of perpetual infirmities, I am still afraid to die.' 
*My Lord,' said the chaplain, *you have forgotten that Jesus 
Christ is a Saviour.' — ' True,' was the answer, ' but how shall 
I know that he is a Saviour for me ? ' — ' My Lord, it is written, 
him that cometh unto me, I will in nowise cast out.' — ' True,' 
said the bishop, ' and I am surprised, that though I have read 
that Scripture a thousand times over, I never felt its virtue 
till this moment ; and now I die happy.' " 

The genius of Butler was almost equally distinguished by 
subtility and comprehensiveness, though the latter quality was 
perhaps the most characteristic. In his juvenile correspondence 
with Clarke — already referred to — he displays an acuteness 
which, as Sir James Mackintosh observes, "neither himself nor 
any other ever surpassed ; " an analytic skill, which, in earlier 
ages, might easily have gained him a rank with the most re- 
nowned of the schoolmen. But in his mature works, though 
they are everywhere characterized by subtle thought, he man- 
ifests in combination with it qualities yet more valuable ; — 
patient comprehensiveness in the survey of complex evidence, 
a profound judgment and a most judicial calmness in computing 
its several elements, and a singular constructive skill in com- 
bining the materials of argument into a consistent logical fabric. 
This " architectural power " of mind may be wholly or nearly 
wanting^ where the mere analytic faculty may exist in much 
2 



14 



JOSEPH BUTLER. 



Tigor. The latter may even be possessed in vicious excess, 
resulting in little more tlian the disintegration of the subjects 
presented to its ingenuity. Synthetically to reconstruct the 
complex unity, when the task of analysis is completed, to assign 
the reciprocal relations and law of subordination of its various 
parts, requires something more. Many can take a watch to 
pieces who would be sorely puzzed to put it together again. 

Butler possessed these powers of analysis and synthesis in 
remarkable equipose. What is more, he could not only re-com- 
bine, and present in symmetrical harmony, the elements of a 
complex unity when capable of being subjected to an exact 
previous analysis, — as in his remarkable sketch of the Moral 
Constitution of Man, — but he had a wonderfully keen eye for 
detecting remote analogies and subtle relations where the ele- 
ments are presented intermingled or in isolation, and insuscep- 
tible of being presented as a single object of contemplation pre- 
vious to the attempt to combine them. This is the case with 
the celebrated Analogy. In the Sermons on Human Nature, 
he comprehensively surveys that nature as a system or constitu- 
tion ; and after a careful analysis of its j^rinciples, affections, 
and jDassions, views these elements in combination, endeavors 
to reduce each of these to its place, assigns to them their rela- 
tive importance, and deduces from the whole the law of sub- 
ordination, — which he finds in the Moral Supremacy of 
Conscience, as a keystone to the arch, — the ruling principle of 
the " Constitution." In the Analogy, he gathers up and com- 
bines from a wide survey of scattered and disjointed facts, those 
resemblances and relations on which the argument is founded, 
and works them into one of the most original and symmetrical 
logical creations to which human genius ever gave birth. The 
latter task was by far the more gigantic of the two. To recur 
to our previous illustration, Butler is here like one who puts a 
watch together without being permitted to take it to pieces, — 
from the mere presentation of its disjointed fragments. In the 
former case he resembled the physiologist who has an entire 



JOSEPH BUTLER. 



15 



animal to study and dissect ; in the latter he resembled Cuvier, 
constructing out of disjecta membra — a bone scattered here 
and there — an organized unity ^vhich man had never seen ex- 
cept in isolated fragments. 

All Butler's productions — even his briefest — display much 
of this " architectonic " quality of mind ; in all he not only 
evinces a keen analytic power in discerning the " differences " 
(one phase of the philosophic genius, according to Bacon, and 
hardly the brightest), but a still higher po\Yer of detecting the 
"analogies" and "resemblances of things," and thus of showing 
their relation and subordination. These peculiarities make his 
writings difficult ; but it makes them profound, and it gives 
them singular completeness. 

It is not difficult to assign the precise sphere in which Butler, 
with eminent gifts for abstract science in general, felt most at 
home. Facts show us, not only that there are peculiarities of 
mental structure which prompt men to the pursuit of some of 
the great objects of thought and speculation rather than others 
— peculiarities which circumstances may determine and edu- 
cation modify, but which neither circumstances nor education 
can do more than determine or modify ; but that even in rela- 
tion to the very same subject of speculation, there are minute 
and specific varieties of mind, which prompt men to addict 
themselves rather to this part of it than to that. This was the 
case with Butler. Eminently fitted for the prosecution of met- 
aphysical science in general, it is always the philosophy of the 
moral nature of man to wdiich he miost naturally attaches him- 
self, and on which he best loves to expatiate. ISTeither Bacon 
nor Pascal ever revolved more deeply the phenomena of our 
moral nature, or contemplated its inconsistencies, its intrica- 
cies, its paradoxes, with a keener glance or more comprehen- 
sive survey ; or drew from such survey reflections more 
original or instructive. As in reading Locke, the young meta- 
physician is perpetually startled by the palpable apparition, in 
distinct sharply defined outline, of facts of consciousness which 



16 



JOSEPH BUTLER. 



he recognizes as having been partially and dimly present to his 
mind before — though too fugitive to fix, too vague to receive 
a name ; so in reading Butler, he is continually surprised by 
the statement of moral facts and laws, which he then first ade- 
quately recognizes as true, and sees in distinct vision face to 
face. It is not without reason that Sir James Mackintosh 
says of the sermons preached at the Rolls, "That in them 
Butler has taught truths more capable of being exactly distin- 
guished from the doctrines of his predecessors, more satisfacto- 
rily established by him, more comprehensively applied to 
particulars, more rationally connected with each other, and 
therefore more worthy of the name of discovery^ than any with 
which we are acquainted." 

His special predilections for the sphere of speculation we 
have mentioned are strikingly indicated in his choice of the 
ground from which he proposes to survey the questions of 
morals. " There are two ways," says he in the preface to his 
three celebrated sermons on Human Nature, " in which the 
subject of morals may be treated. One begins inquiring into 
the abstract relations of things ; the other, from a matter of 
fact, namely, what the particular nature of man is, its several 
parts, their economy or constitution ; from whence it proceeds 
to determine what course of life it is, which is correspondent to 
this whole nature." As might be expected, from the tenden- 
cies of his mind, he selects his latter course. 

The powers of observation in Butler must have been, in 
spite of his studious life and his remarkable habits of abstrac- 
tion, not much inferior to his keen faculty of intros2:>ection, 
though this last v/as undoubtedly the main instrument by which 
he traced so profoundly the mysteries of our nature. There 
have doubtless been other men, far less profound, who have 
had a more quick and more vivid perception of the peculiarities 
of character which discriminate individuals, or small classes of 
men (evincing, after all, however, not so much a knowledge of 
man as a knowledge of meii) ; still the masterly manner in 



JOSEPH BUTLER. 



17 



^^'llicll Butler often sketches even these, shov/s that he must 
have been a very sagacious observer of those phenomena of 
human nature which presented themselves from loithout, as 
well as of those which revealed themselves from idtliin. In 
general, however, it is the characteristics of nian^ the generic 
phenomena of our nature, in all their complexity and subtilty, 
that he best loves to investigate and exhibit. The spirit of his 
profound philosophy is meantime worthy both of the Christian 
character and ample intellect of him who excogitated it. It is 
the very reverse of that of the philosophical satirist or carica- 
turist; however severely just the foibles, the inconsistencies, 
the corruptions of our nature, it is a philosophy everywhere 
compassionate, magnanimous, and philanthropic. Its tone, in- 
deed, like that of the philosophy of Pascal (though not shaded 
with the same deep melancholy), is entirely modulated by a 
profound conviction of the frailty and ignorance of man, of the 
little we know compared with what is to be known, and of the 
duty of humility, modesty, and caution in relation to all those 
great problems of the universe, which tempt and exercise man's 
ambitious speculations. His constant feeling, amidst the beau- 
tiful and original reasonings of the Analogy^ is identical with 
that of Newton, when, reverting at the close of life to his sub- 
lime discoveries, he declared he seemed only like a child who 
had been amusing himself with picking up a few shells on the 
margin of the ocean of universal truth, while the infinite still 
lay unexplored before him. In a word, it is the feeling, not 
only of Pascal and of Newton, but of all the profoundest spec- 
ulators of our race, whose grandest lesson from all they learned, 
was the vanishing ratio of man's knowledge to man's ignorance. 
Hence the immense value (if only as a discipline) of a careful 
study of Butler's writings, to every youthful mind. They can- 
not but powerfully tend to check presumption, and teach mod- 
.esty and self-distrust. 

The feebleness of Butler's imagination was singularly 
contrasted with the inventive and constructive qualities of his 
2* 



18 



JOSEPH BUTLEE. 



intellect, and the facility witli whicli he detected and employed 
" analogies " in the wcij of argument. He is, indeed, almost 
unique in this respect. Other philosophic minds (Bacon and 
Burke are illustrious examples), which have possessed similar 
aptitudes for " analogical " reasoning, have usually had quite 
sufficient of the kindred activity of imagination to employ 
" analogies " for the purpose of poetical illustration. If Butler 
possessed this faculty by nature in any tolerable measure, it 
must (as has been the case with some other great thinkers) 
have been rej^ressed and absorbed by his habits of abstraction. 
His defect in this respect is, in some respects, to be regretted, 
since unquestionably the illustrations which imagination would 
have supplied to argument, and the graces it would have im- 
parted to style, would have made his writings both more intel- 
ligible and more attractive. It is said that once, and once only, 
" he courted the muses," having indited a solitary " acrostic to 
a fair cousin " who for the first, and as it seems, the only time, 
inspired him with the tender passion. But, as one of his bio- 
graphers says, we have probably no great reason to lament the 
loss of this fragment of his poetry. 

Butler's composition is almost as destitute of wit as of the 
graces of imagination. Yet is he by no means without that dry 
sort of humor, Avhich often accompanies very vigorous logic, 
and, indeed, is in some instances inseparable from it; for the 
neat detection of a sophism, or the sudden and unexpected ex- 
plosion of a fallacy, produces much the same effect as wit on 
those who are capable of enjoying close and cogent reasoning. 
There is also a kind of simple, grave, satirical pleasantry, 
with which he sometimes states and refutes an objection, by no 
means without its piquancy. 

As to the complaint of obscurity, Avhich has been so often 
charged on Butler's stj'lc, it is difficult to see its justice in the 
sense wliicli it lias usually been preferred. He is, a difficult . 
author, no doubt, but he is so from the close packing of his 
thoughts, and their immense generality and comprehensiveness ; 



JOSEPH BUTLER. 



19 



as also from what may be called the hreadtJi of his march, and 
from occasional lateral excursions for the purpose of disposing 
of some objection which he does not formally mention, but 
which might harrass his flank ; it certainly is not from inde- 
terminate language or (ordinarily) involved construction. All 
that is really required in the reader, capable of understanding 
him at all, is to do just what he does with lyrical poetry (if we 
may employ an old, and yet in this one point, not inapt com- 
parison) ; he must read sufficiently often to make all the transi- 
tions of thought familiar, he must let the mind dwell with 
patience on each argument till its entire scope and bearing are 
properly appreciated. Xothing certainly is wanting in the 
method or arrangement of the thoughts ; and the diction seems 
to us selected with the utmost care and precision. Indeed, as 
Professor Fitzgerald justly observes, a collation of the first 
with the subsequent editions of the Analogy (the variations are 
given in Mr. Fitzgerald's edition) will show, by the nature of 
the alterations, what pains Butler bestowed on a point on v/hich 
he is erroneously supposed to have been negligent. In subjects 
so abstruse, and involving so much generality of expression, 
the utmost difficulty must always be experienced in selecting 
language which conveys neither more nor less than what is in- 
tended ; and this point Butler must have labored immensely ; it 
may be added successfully, since he has at least produced works 
which have seldom given rise to disputes as to his meaning. 
Though he may be difficult to be understood, few people complain 
of his being liable to be ??z;'5understood. In short, it may be 
doubted Avhether any man of so comprehensive a mind, and 
dealing with such abstract subjects, ever condensed the results 
of twenty years' meditations into so small a compass, with so 
little obscurity. Ko doubt greater amplification would have 
made him more pleasing, but it may be questioned whether the 
, perusal of his writings would have been so useful a discipline ; 
and whether the truths he has delivered would have fixed 
themselves so indelibly as they now generally do in the minds 



20 



JOSEPH BUTLER. 



of all who diligently study him. It is the result of the very 
activity of mind his writings stimulate and demand. But, at 
any rate, if precision in the use of language, and method and 
consecutiveness in the thoughts, are sufncient to rebut the 
charge of obscurity, Butler is not chargeable with the fault in 
the ordinary sense. We must never forget what "Whately in 
his Rhetoric has so well illustrated, — that perspicuity is a "rel- 
ative quality." To the intelligent, or those who are willing to 
take sufficient pains to understand, Butler will not seem charge- 
able with obscurity. The diction is plain, downright Saxon- 
English, and the style, however homely, has, as the writer just 
mentioned observes, the great charm of transparent simplicity 
of purpose and unaffected earnestness. 

The immortal Analogy has probably done more to silence 
the objections of infidelity than any other ever written from the 
earliest " apologies " downwards. It not only most critically 
met the spirit of unbelief in the author's own day, but is equally 
adapted to meet that which chiefly prevails in all time. In 
every age some of the principal, perhaps the principal, objec- 
tions to the Christian Eevelation, have been those which men's 
preconceptions of the Divine character and administration, — 
of what God musthe, and what God tmist do, — have suggested 
against certain facts in the sacred history, or certain doctrines 
it reveals. To show the objector then (supposing him to be a 
theist, as nine-tenths of all such objectors have been), that the 
very same or similar difficulties are found in the structure of 
the universe and the divine administration of it, is to wrest 
every such weapon completely from his hands, if he be a fair 
reasoner and remains a theist at all. He is bound by strict 
logical obligation either to show that the parallel difficulties do 
not exist, or to show how he can solve them, while he cannot 
solve those of the Bible. In default of doing either of these 
things, he ought either to renounce all sitch objections to Chris-, 
lianity, or abandon theism altogether. It is true, therefore, 
that though Butler leaves the alternative of atheism open, he 



JOSEPH BUTLER. 



21 



hardly leaves any other alternative to nine-tenths of the theists 
who have objected to Christianity. 

It has been sometimes said by way of reproach, that Butler 
does leave that door open ; that his work does not confute the 
atheist. The answer is, that it is not its object to confute athe- 
ism ; but it is equally true, that it does not diminish by one 
grain any of the arguments against it. It leaves the evidence 
for theism, — every particle of it, — just where it was. Butler 
merely avails himself of facts which exist, undeniably exist 
(whether men be atheists or theists), to neutralize a certain 
class of objections against Christianity. And, as the exhibition 
of such facts as form the pivot on which Butler's argument 
turns, does not impugn the truth of theism, but leaves its con- 
clusions, and the immense preponderance and convergence of 
evidence which establish them just as they were, so it is equally 
true that Butler has sufficiently guarded his argument from 
any perversion; for example, in Part i. chap. vi. and Part ii. 
chap. viii. He has also with his accustomed acuteness and 
judgment shown that, even on the principles of atheism itself, 
its confident assumption that, if its principles be granted, a fu- 
ture life — future happiness — future misery — is a dream — 
cannot be depended on ; for since men have existed, they may 
again ; and if in a bad condition now, in a worse hereafter. It 
is not, on such an hypothesis, a whit more unaccountable that 
man's life should be renewed or preserved, or perpetuated for- 
ever, than that it should have been orginated at all. On 
this point, he truly says, "That we are to live hereafter is just 
as reconcilable with the scheme of atheism, and as well to be 
accounted for by it, as that we are now alive, is ; and therefore 
nothing can be more absurd than to argue from that scheme, 
that there can be no future state.' 

It has been also alleged that the analogy only " shifts the 
difficulty from revealed to natural religion," and that "atheists 
might make use of the arguments, and have done so." The an- 
swer is, not only (as just said'i that the arguments of Butler leave 



22 



JOSEPH BUTLEE. 



every particle of the evidence for tlieism just where it was, and 
that he has sufficiently guarded against all abuse of them ; but 
that the facts, of which it is so foolishly said that the atheist 
might make ill use, had always been the very arguments which 
he had used, and of which Butler only made a new and benefi- 
cial application. The objections v^^ith which he perplexes and 
baffles the deist, he did not give to the atheist's armory ; he 
took them from thence, merely to make an unexpected and more 
legitimate use of them. The atheist had never neglected such 
weapons, nor was likely to do so, previous to Butler's adroit appli- 
cation of them. The charge is ridiculous ; as well might a man, 
who had v»^rested a stiletto from an assassin to defend himself, be 
accused of having put the weapon into the assassin's hands I 
It was there before ; he merely wrested it thence. It is just 
so with Butler. 

Further ; we cannot but think that the conclusiveness of 
Butler's vvork as against its true object The Deist, has often 
been underrated, by many even of its genuine admirers. Thus 
Dr. Chalmers, for instance, who gives such glowing proofs of 
his admiration of the work, and expatiates in a congenial spirit 
on its merits, affirms that " those overrate the power of analogy 
who look to it for any very distinct or positive contribution to 
the Christian argument. To repel objections, in foct, is the 
great. service which analogy has rendered to the cause of Eev- 
eiaiion, and it is the only service which we seek for at its 
hands." * This, abstractedly, is true ; but in fact, considering 
the position of the bulk of the objectors, that they have been 
invincibly persuaded of the truth of theism, and that their objec- 
tions to Christianity have been exclusivel}' or chiefly of the kind 
dealt with in the Analog?/, the work is much more than an ^r- 
giunentiun ad homineni ; it is not simply of negative value. 
To such objectors it logically establishes the truth of Christian- 
ity, or it forces them to recede from theism, which the bulk 
will not do. If a man says, " I am invincibly persuaded of the 



* Preleclions on Builer, etc., p. 7. 



JOSEPH BUTLER. 



23 



truth of proposition A, but I cannot receive proposition B, be- 
cause objections a (3 y are opposed to it ; if these were removed, 
my objections would cease ; " then, if you can show that a (3 y 
equally apply to the proposition A, his reception of which, he 
says, is based on invincible evidence, you do really compel such 
a man to believe that not only B ma?/ be true, but that it is 
true, unless he be willing (which few in the parallel case are) 
to abandon proposition A as well as B. This is precisely the 
condition in which the majority of deists have ever been, if we 
may judge from their v/ritings. It is usually the d priori as- 
sumption, that certain facts in the history of the Bible, or some 
portions of its doctrine, are unworthy of the Deity, and incom- 
patible with his character or administration, that has chiefly 
excited the incredulity of the deist ; far more than any dissatis- 
faction with the positive evidence which substantiates the 
Divine origin of Christianity. Neutralize these objections by 
showing that they are equally applicable to what he declares he 
cannot relinquish, — the doctrines of theism, and you show 
him, if he has a particle of logical sagacity, not only that Christ- 
ianity may be true, but that it is so ; and his only escape is by 
relapsing into atheism, or resting his opposition on other objec- 
tions of a very feeble character in comparison, and which, prob- 
ably, few would have ever been contented with alone ; for 
apart from those objections which Butler repels, the historical 
evidence for Christianity, — the evidence on behalf of the in- 
tegrity of its records, and the honesty and sincerity of its found- 
ers, showing that they could not have constructed such a sys- 
tem if they would, and ivoidd not, supposing them impostors, if 
they could, — is stronger than that for any fact in history. 

In consequence of this position of the argument, Butler's book, 
to large classes of objectors, though practically an argumentum 
ad Jiominem, not only proves Christianity may be true, but in 
all logical fairness proves it is so. This he himself, with his 
usual judgment, points out. He says : " And objections, which 
are equally applicable to both natural and revealed religion, 



1 

I 



24 



JOSEPH BUTLER. 



are, properly speaking, answered by its being shown that they 
are so, i^rovided the former be admitted to he true'' 

The praise whicii Mackintosh bestowed on this great work 
is alike worthy of it and himself. " Butler's great work, though 
only a commentary on the singularly original and pregnant pas- 
sage of Origen, which is so honestly prefixed to it as a motto, 
is, notwithstanding, the most original and profound work extant 
in any language, on the Philosophy of Religion.'' * The fav- 
orite topics of the Sermons are, of course, largely insisted on in 
the Analogy ; such as the " ignorance of man ; " the restrictions 
which the limitations of liis nature and his position in the uni- 
yerse should impose on his speculations; his subjection to 
probability as the guide of life ; " the folly and presumption of 
pronouncing, d priori, on the character and conduct of the Di- 
vine Ruler from our contracted point of view, and our glimpses 
of but a very small segment of his universal plan. These 
topics Butler enforces with a power not less admirable than the 
sagacity with which he traces the analogies between the " Con- 
stitution and Course of Xature," and the disclosures of Divine 
Eevelation." These last, of course, form the staple of the argu- 
ment; but to enforce the proper deductions from them, the above 
favorite topics are absolutely essential. * 

It has been sometimes, though erroneously, surmised, that 
Butler was considerably indebted to preceding writers. That 
in the progress of the long deistical controversy many theolo- 
gians should have caught glimpses of the same line of argument, 
is not wonderful. The constant iteration by the English deists 
of that same class of difficulties to which the Analogy 
could not fail to lead to a partial perception of the powerful in- 
strument it was reserved for Butler effectually to wield. It 

A far difforcnt and utterly inconsistent judgment in fill respects is re- 
ported, in his "Life/' to have fallen from liim. But as Professor Fitz- 
gerald shoAvs, it is so strangely, and, indeed, amusingly contrary to the 
above, that it must have been founded on some mistake of something that 
must have been said in conversation. 



JOSEPH BUTLEE. 



25 



has been here as "with almost eveiy other great mtellectual 
achievement of man ; many minds have been simultaneously 
engaged by the natural progress of events alout the same sub- 
ject of thought ; there have been coming shadows " and 
"vague anticipations," perhaps even simultaneous inventions 
or discoveries ; and then ensues much debate as to the true 
claimants. Thus it was in relation to the calculus, the analysis 
of vrater, the invention of the steam engine, and the discovery 
of Xeptune. 

In the present case, however, there can be no doubt that the 
merit of the systematic construction of the entire argument rests 
with Butler. Xor would it have much detracted from his 
merit, even if he had derived far larger fragments of the fabric 
from his contemporaries than we have any reason to believe he 
did. They would have been but single stones ; the architectu- 
ral genius which brought them from their distant quarries and 
polished them, and wrought them into a massive evidence, was 
his alone. 

Professor Fitzgerald has truly remarked, that the work of 
Dr. James Foster against Tindal (an author Butler evidently 
has constantly in his eye), presents some curious parallehsms 
with certain passages of the Analogy ; we have ourselves noted 
in Conybeare's reply to the same infidel writer (published six 
years before the Analogy), other parallelisms not less striking. 
But it seems quite improbable that Butler should have derived 
aid from any such sources, since his work was being excogi- 
tated for many years before it was published ; nay, as we have 
seen, it may be conjectured that he largely transfused into it 
portions of the sermons delivered so long before at the Rolls, 
and of which a far greater number must have been preached 
than the fifteen he published ; so that, perhaps, it is more near 
the truth to say, that contemporary writers had been indebted 
to him than he to them. 

The pregnant sentence " from Origen, however, is not the 
only thing which may have suggested to Butler his great work. 

3 



26 JOSEPH BUTLER. 

Berkeley, in a long passage of the " Minute Philosopher," cited 
by Mr. Fitzgerald, clearly lays down the principle on which 
such a work as the Analogy might be constructed. 

The spirit of the Analogy is admirable. Though eminently 
controversial in its origin and purpose ; and though the author 
must constantly have had the deistical writers of the day in his 
eye, his work is calm and dignified, and divested of every trace 
of the controversial spirit. He does not even mention the 
names of the men whose opinions he is refuting ; and if their 
systems had been merely some new minerals, or aerolites 
dropped upon the world from some unknown sphere, he could 
not have analyzed them with less of passion. 

Of Butler's ethical philosophy, as expounded especially in 
the Sermons on Human Nature, Sir James Mackintosh's re- 
marks prefixed to this Encyclopaidia * supersede further no- 
tice in the present brief article. But it may be remarked in 
general of the sermons preached at the Rolls, that though not 
so much read (if we except, perhaps, the three just mentioned) 
as the Analogy, they are to the full as worthy of being read ; 
they deserve all that is so strikingly said of them in the Pre- 
liminary Dissertation. Some of them fill one with wonder at 
the sagacity with which the moral paradoxes in human nature 
are investigated and reconciled. Take, for example, the ser- 
mon on Balaam. The first feeling in many a mind on reading 
, the history in the Old Testament is, that man could not so act 
in the given circumstances. We doubt if ever any man deeply 
pondered the sermon of Butler, in which he dwells on the 
equally unaccountable phenomena of human conduct, less ob- 
served, indeed, only because more observable, — and questioned 
any longer man's powers of self-deception, even to such feats 
of folly and wickedness as are recorded of the prophet. 

The editions of Butler's writings, separately or altogether, 
have been numerous, and it is impossible within the limits of 
this article to specify them ; still less to do justice to the liter- 



* Encyclop£Edia Britanica. 



JOSEPH BUTLER. 



27 



ature which they have produced. His commentators have 
been many and most illustrious ; seldom has a man who wrote 
so little, engaged so many great minds to do him homage, by 
becoming his exponents and annotators. It may be permitted, 
however, to mention with deserved honor the Remarks of Sir 
James Mackintosh prefixed to this Encyclopaedia ; the " Pre- 
lections " of Dr. Chalmers on the Analogy, the valuable " Es- 
say" of Dr. Hampden on the "Philosophical Evidence of 
Christianity ; " some beautiful applications of Butler's principle 
in Whately's " Essays on the Peculiarities of Christianity ; " 
and the admirable edition of the Analogy by Professor Fitz- 
gerald, which is enriched by many very acute and judicious 
notes, and by a copious and valuable index. 



CONTENTS. 



Introduction,. . 31 

CHAPTER I. 

Moral Constitution of Man, 53 

SECTION I. 

General Account of Man's Nature, 53 

SECTION II. 

Human Nature as a Guide in Morals, 68 

SECTION III. 

Obligations to Obey Conscience, 82 

SECTION lY. 

Self-love and Particular Affections ; especially Benevolence, 91 

CHAPTER II. 

Nature of Virtue, 112 

CHAPTER III. 

Particular Affections and Duties, 126 

SECTION I. 

Compassion, 126 

SECTION II. 

Resentment, 138 

SECTION III. 

Forgiveness of Injuries, 151 

29 



30 CONTENTS. 

SECTION IV. 

The Love of our Neiglibor, 162 

SECTION V. 

The Love of God, 176 



INTRODUCTION.* 



There are two ways in which the subject of morals may 
be treated. One begins from inquiring into the abstract rela- 
tions of things : the other from a matter of fact, namely, what 
the particular nature of man is, its several parts, their econ- 
omy or constitution; from whence it proceeds to determine 
what course of life it is, which is correspondent to this whole 
nature. In the former method the conclusion is expressed 
thus, that vice is contrary to the nature and reason of things : 
in the latter, that it is a violation or breaking in upon our own 
nature.f Thus they both lead us to the same thing, our obli- 
gations to the practice of virtue ; and thus they exceedingly 

* Originally the Author's Preface to his Sermons at the Eolls. A few 
paragraphs not pertaining to what is here published have been omitted. 

"In these Sermons," says Sir James Mackintosh (Progress of Ethical 
. Philosophy), " he has taught truths more capable of being exactly dis- 
tinguished from the doctrines of his predecessors, more satisfactorily 
established by him, more comprehensively applied to particulars, more 
rationally connected with each other, and therefore, more worthy of the 
name of discovery, than any with which we are acquainted." — Ed. 

t The author evidently does not consider the two doctrines as incon- 
sistent with each other. And they are not ; only the former is the more 
comprehensive. Intemperate self-indulgence is strictly contrary to the 
economy of human nature, but falsehood is rather contrary to the facts 
of nature and history, while injustice is a violation of the property-rela- 

31 



32 



INTRODUCTION. 



strengthen and enforce each other. The first seems the most 
direct formal proof, and in some respects the least liable to 
cavil and dispute : the latter is in a peculiar manner adapted to 
satisfy a fair mind : and is more easily applicable to the sev- 
eral particular relations and circumstances in life. 

The following Discourses proceed chiefly in this latter 
method. The three first wholly. They were intended to ex- 
plain what is meant by the nature of man, when it is said that 
virtue consists in following, and vice in deviating from it ; and 
by explaining to show that the assertion is true. That the 
ancient moralists had some inward feeling or other, which they 
chose to express in this manner, that man is born to virtue, 
that it consists in following nature, and that vice is more con- 
trary to this nature than tortures or death, their works in our 
hands are instances. Now a person who found no mystery in 
this way of speaking of the ancients ; who, without being very 
explicit with himself, kept to his natural- feeling, went along 
with them, and found within himself a full conviction, that 
what they laid down was just and true ; such an one would 
probably wonder to see a point, in which he never perceived 
any difficulty, so labored as this is, in the second and third 
Sermons ; insomuch perhaps, as to be at a loss for the occasion, 
scope, and drift of them. But it need not be thought strange 
that this manner of expression, though familiar with them, 
and, if not usually carried so far, yet not uncommon amongst 
ourselves, should want explaining; since there are several per- 
ceptions daily felt and spoken of, which yet it may not be very 
easy at first view to explicate, to distinguish from all others, 

tions among mcTi, and cruelty of our relations as sensitive beings. The 
former is the doctrine of Cudworth, Clarke, Wollaston, &c. — Ed. 



INTRODUCTION. 



33 



and ascertain exactly what the idea or perception is. The 
many treatises upon the passions are a proof of this ; since so 
many would never have undertaken to unfold their several 
complications, and trace and resolve them into their principles, 
if they had thought what they were endeavouring to show was 
obvious to every one, who felt and talked of those passions. 
Thus, though there seems no ground to doubt, but that the 
generality of mankind have the inward perception expressed 
so commonly in that manner by the ancient moralists, more 
than to doubt whether they have those passions; yet it appeared 
of use to unfold that inward conviction, and lay it open in a 
more explicit manner than I had seen done ; especially when 
there were not wanting persons, who manifestly mistook the 
whole thing, and so had great reason to express themselves 
dissatisfied with it. A late author, of great and deserved 
reputation says, that to place virtue in following nature, is at 
best a loose way of talk. And he has reason to say this, if 
what I think he intends to express, though with great decency, 
be true, that scarce any other sense can be put upon those 
words, but acting as any of the several parts, without distinc- 
tion, of a man's nature happened most to incline him.* 

Whoever thinks it worth while to consider this matter thor- 
oughly, should begin with stating to himself exactly the idea 
of a system, economy, or constitution of any particular nature, 
or particular any thing : and he will, I suppose, find, that it is a 
one or a whole, made up of several parts ; but yet, that the 
several parts even considered as a whole, do not complete the 
idea, unless in the notion of a whole you include the rela- 



^ Rel. of Nature delin. ed. 1724, pp. 22, 23. [By Wm. Wollaston, Ed.] 



34: 



INTRODUCTION. 



tions and respects which those parts have to each other. 
Every work both of nature and of art is a system : and as 
every particular thing, both natural and artificial, is for some 
use or purpose out of and beyond itself, one may add, to 
what has been already brought into the idea of a system, its 
conduciveness to this one or more ends. Let us instance in a 
watch : — Suppose the several parts of it taken to pieces, and 
placed apart from each other : let a man have ever so exact a 
notion of these several parts, unless he considers the respects 
and relations which they have to each other, he will not have 
any thing like the idea of a watch. Suppose these several 
parts brought together and anyhow united : neither will he 
yet, be the union ever so close, have an idea which will bear 
any resemblance to that of a watch. But let him view those 
several parts put together, or consider them as to be put to- 
gether in the manner of a watch ; let him form a notion of the 
relations which those several parts have to each other — all 
conducive in their respective ways to this purpose, showing the 
hour of the day ; and then he has the idea of a watch. Thus 
it is with regard to the inward frame of man. Appetites, 
passions, affections, and the principle of reflection, considered 
merely as the several parts of our inward nature, do not at all 
give us an idea of the system or constitution of this nature ; 
because the constitution is formed by somewhat not yet taken 
into consideration, namely, by the relations which these several 
parts have to each other ; the chief of which is the authority 
of reflection or conscience. It is from considering the rela- 
tions which the several appetites and passions in the inward 
frame have to each other, and, above all, the supremacy of re- 



INTRODUCTION. 



35 



flection or conscience, that we get the idea of the system or 
constitution of human nature. And from the idea itself it will 
as fully appear, that this our nature, i.e., constitution, is 
adapted to virtue, as from the idea of a w^atch it appears, that 
its nature, i.e., constitution or system, is adapted to measure 
time. What in fact or event commonly happens is nothing to 
this question. Every work of art is apt to be out of order : 
but this is so far from being according to its system, that let 
the disorder increase, and it will totally destroy it. This is 
merely by way of explanation, what an economy, system, or 
constitution is. And thus far the cases are perfectly parallel. 
If we go further, there is indeed a difference, nothing to the 
present purpose, but too important a one ever to be omitted. 
A machine is inanimate and passive ; but we are agents. Our 
constitution is put in our own power. "We are charged with 
it, and therefore are accountable for any disorder or violation 
of it. 

Thus nothing can possibly be more contrary to nature than 
vice ; meaning by nature, not only the several parts of our 
internal frame, but also the constitution of it. Poverty and 
disgrace, tortures and death, are not so contrary to it. Misery 
and injustice are indeed equally contrary to some different 
parts of our nature taken singly: but injustice is moreover 
contrary to the whole constitution of the nature. 

If it be asked, whether this constitution be really what those 
philosophers meant, and whether they would have explained 
j themselves in this manner; the answer is the same, as if it 
'I should be asked, whether a person, who had often used the 
I word resentment, and felt the thing, would have explained this 



36 



INTRODUCTION. 



passion exactly in the same manner, in which it is done in one 
of these Discourses.* As I have no doubt, but that this is a 
true account of that passion, which he referred to and intended 
to express by the word resentment ; so I have no doubt, but 
that this is the true account of the ground of that conviction 
which they referred to, when they said, vice was contrary to 
nature. And though it should be thought that they meant no 
more than that vice was contrary to the higher and better part 
of our nature ; even this implies such a constitution as I have 
endeavored to explain. For the very terms, higher and 
better, imply a relation or respect of parts to each other ; and 
these relative parts, being in one and the same nature, form a 
constitution, and are the very idea of it. They had a per- 
ception that injustice was contrary to their nature, and that 
pain was so also. They observed these two perceptions totally 
different, not in degree, but in kind ; and the reflecting upon 
each of them, as the}^ thus stood in their nature, wrought a 
full intuitive conviction, that more was due and of right 
belonged to one of these inward perceptions, than to the other ; 
tliat it demanded in all cases to govern such a creature as 
man. So that, upon the whole, this is a fair and true account 
of what was the ground of their conviction; of what they 
intended to refer to, when they said, virtue consisted in follow- 
ing nature ; a manner of speaking not loose and undeterminate, 
but clear and distinct, strictly just and true. 

Though I am persuaded the force of this conviction is felt 
by almost every one ; yet since, considered as an argument 
and put in words, it appears somewhat abstruse, and since the 
connection of it is broken in the three first Sermons, it may not 



*Chnp. iii., Sect. ii. 



INTRODUCTION, 



37 



be amiss to give the reader the whole argument here in one 
view. 

Mankind has various instincts and principles of action, as 
brute creatures have : some leading most directly and immedi- 
ately to the good of the community, and some most directly to 
private good. 

Man has several which brutes have not ; particularly re- 
flection or conscience, an approbation of some principles or 
actions, and disapprobation of others. 

Brutes obey their instincts or principles of action, according 
to certain rules ; suppose the constitution of their body, and 
the objects around them. 

The generality of mankind also obey their instincts and 
principles, all of them ; those propensions we call good, as 
well as the bad, according to the same rules; namely, the 

, constitution of their body, and the external circumstances 
which they are in. [Therefore it is not a true representation 

1 of mankind to affirm, that they are wholy governed by self- 
love, the love of power and sensual appetites : since, as on the 
one hand they are often actuated by these, without any regard 
to right or wrong ; so on the other it is manifest fact, that the 
same persons, the generality, are frequently influenced by 

; friendship, compassion, gratitude ; and even a general abhor- 
rence of what is base, and liking of v.diat is fair and just, 

. takes its turn amongst the other motives of action. This is the 
partial inadequate notion of human nature treated of in the first 

': Discourse : * and it is by this nature, if one may speak so, 

„ that the v>'orld is in fact influenced, and kept in that tolerable 

(; order, in which it is.] 



^'^ Chap, i., Sect. i. 

4 



38 



INTEODUOTION. 



Brutes, in acting according to the rules before mentioned, 
their bodily constitution and circumstances, act suitably to 
their whole nature. [It is, however, to be distinctly noted, 
that the reason why we affirm this, is not merely that brutes 
in fact act so ; for this alone, however universal, does not at 
all determine, whether such course of action be correspondent 
to their whole nature : but the reason of the assertion is, that 
as in acting thus they plainly act conformably to somewhat in 
their nature, so, from all observations we are able to make 
upon them, there does not appear the least ground to imagine 
them to have any thing else in their nature, which requires a 
different rule or course of action.] 

Mankind also in acting thus would act suitably to their 
whole nature, if no more were to be said of man's nature than 
what has been now said ; if that, as it is a true, were also a 
complete, adequate account of our nature. 

But that is not a complete account of man's nature. Some- 
what further must be brought in to give us an adequate notion 
of it ; namely, that one of those principles of action, conscience 
or reflection, compared with the rest as they all stand together 
in the nature of man, plainly bears upon it marks of authority 
over all the rest, and claims the absolute direction of them all, 
to allow or forbid their gratification : a disapprobation of reflec- 
tion being in itself a principle manifestly superior to a mere 
propension. And the conclusion is, that to allow no more to 
this superior principle or part of our nature, than to other 
parts ; to let it govern and guide only occasionally in common 
with the rest, as its turn happens to come, from the temper 
and circumstances one happens to be in ; this is not to act 
conformably with the constitution of man : neither can any 



INTEODUCTION. 



39 



liuman creature be said to act conformably to his constitution 
of nature, unless be allows to that superior principle the abso- 
lute authority which is due to it. And this conclusion is 
abundantly confirmed from hence, that one may determine what 
course of action the economy of man's nature requires, with- 
out so much as knowing in what degrees of strength the several 
principles prevail, or which of them have actually the greatest 
influence. 

The practical reason of insisting so much upon this natural 
authority of the principle of reflection or conscience is, that 
it seems in great measure overlooked by many, who are by no 
means the worst sort of men. It is thought sufficient to 
abstain from gross wickedness, and to be humane and kind to 
such as happen to come in their way. Whereas in reality the 
very constitution of our nature requires, that we bring our 
whole conduct before this superior faculty ; w^ait its determina- 
tion; enforce upon ourselves its authority, and make it the 
business of our lives, as it is absolutely the whole business of a 
moral agent, to conform ourselves to it. This is the true 
meaning of that ancient precept, Reverence thyself. 

The not taking into consideration this authority, which is 
implied in the idea of reflex approbation or disapprobation, 
seems a material deficiency or omission in Lord Shaftesbury's 
Inquiry concerning Virtue. He has shown beyond all contra- 
diction, that virtue is naturally the interest or happiness, and 
vice the misery, of such a creature as man, placed in the cir- 
cumstances which we are in this world. But suppose there 
are particular exceptions ; a case which this author was un- 
willing to put, and yet surely it is to be put : or suppose a case 
which he has put and determined, that of a sceptic not con- 



40 



INTRODUCTION. 



vinced of this liappy tendency of virtue, or being of a contrary 
opinion. His determination is, that it would be icithout 
remedy."^ One may say more explicitly, that leaving out the 
authority of reflex approbation or disapprobation, such an one 
would be under an obligation to act viciously ; since interest, 
one's own happiness, is a manifest obligation, and there is not 
supposed to be any other obligation in the case. " But does it 
much mend the matter, to take in that natural authority of 
reflection ? There indeed would be an obligation to virtue ; 
but would not the obligation from supposed interest on the 
side of vice remain ? " If it should, yet to be under two con- 
trary obligations, i.e., under none at all, would not be exactly 
the same, as to be under a formal obligation to be vicious, or 
to be in circumstances in which the constitution of man's 
nature plainly required that vice should be preferred. But 
the obligation on the side of interest really does not remain. 
For the natural authority .of the principle of reflection is an 
obligation the most near and intimate, the most certain and 
known : whereas the contrary obligation can at the utmost 
appear no more than probable; since no man q^w ho. certain m 
any circumstances that vice is his interest in the present 
world, much less can he be certain against another : and thus 
the certain obligation would entirely supersede and destroy the 
uncertain one ; which yet would have been of real force with- 
out the former. 

In truth, the taking in this consideration totally changes the 
Avhole state of the case ; and shows what this author does not 
seem to have been aware of, that the greatest degree of scepti- 
cism which he thought possible will still leave men under the 

^- Characteristics, vol. ii., p. 69. 



INTRODUCTION. 



41 



strictest moral obligations, \Yhatever their opinion be concerning 
the happiness of virtue. For that mankind upon reflection felt 
an approbation of n-hat was good, and disapprobation of the 
contrary, he thought a plain matter of fact, as it undoubtedly is, 
which none could deny, but from mere affectation. Take in 
then that authority and obligation, which is a constituent part 
of this reflex approbation, and it will undeniably follow, though 
a man should doubt of every thing else, yet, that he would 
still remain under the nearest and most certain obligation to 
the practice of virtue ; an obligation implied in the very idea 
of virtue, in the very idea of reflex approbation. 

And how little influence soever this obligation alone can be 
expected to have in fact upon mankind, yet one may appeal 
even to interest and self-love, and ask, since from man's nature, 
condition, and the shortness of life, so little, so very little 
indeed, can possibly in any case be gained by vice ; whether 
it be so prodigious a thing to sacrifice that little to the most 
intimate of all obligations ; and which a man cannot transgress 
without being self-condemned, and, unless he has corrupted his 
nature, without real self-dislike : this question, I say, may be 
asked, even upon supposition that the prospect of a future life 
were ever so uncertain. 

The observation, that man is thus, by his very nature, a law 
to himself, pursued to its just consequences, is of the utmost 
importance ; because from it, it will follow, that though men 
should, through stupidity or speculative scepticism, be ignorant 
of, or disbelieve, any authority in the universe to punish the 
violation of this law ; yet, if there should be such authority, 
they would be as really liable to punishment, as though they 
had been beforehand convinced that such punishment would 

4* 



42 



I^s'TRODUCTION. 



follow. For in Trliatever sense we understand justice, even 
supposing, what I tliink would be very presumptuous to assert, 
tliat the end of divine punishment is no other than that of 
civil punishment, namely, to prevent future mischief ; upon this 
bold supposition, ignorance or disbelief of the sanction, would 
by no means exempt even from this justice ; because it is not 
foreknowledge of the punishment which renders us obnoxious 
to it, but merely violating a known obligation. 

And here it comes in one's way to take notice of a manifest 
error or mistake in the author now cited, unless perhaps he 
has incautiously expressed himself so as to be misunderstood ; 
namely, that it is malice only, and not goodness, ivhich can mal:e 
us afraid.'^ Whereas, in reality, goodness is the natural and 
just object of the greatest fear to an ill man. Malice may be 
appeased or satiated ; humor may change, but goodness is a 
fixed, steady, immovable principle of action. If either of the 
former holds the sword of justice, there is plainly ground for 
the greatest of crimes to hope for impuuit}" ; but if it be good- 
ness, there can be no possible hope, whilst the reasons of 
things, or the ends of government, call for punishment. Thus 
every one sees how much greater chance of impunity an ill 
man has in a partial administration, than in a just and upright 
one. It is said, that the interest or good of the ichole must he 
the interest of the iiniversal Being, and that he can have no 
other. Be it so. This author has proved, that vice is na- 
turally the misery of mankind in this world. Consequently it 
was for the good of the whole that it should be so. What 
shadow of reason then is there to assert, that this may not be 
the case hereafter ? Danger of future punishment (and if 



* Characteristics, vol. i., p. 39. 



INTRODUCTION. 



43 



there be danger, there is ground of fear) no more stjpposes 
malice, than the present feeling of punishment does. 

The account given of Resentment in the eighth Sermon* is 
introductory to the following one upon Forgiveness of Injuries, 
It may possibly have appeared to some, at first sight, a strange 
assertion, that injury is the only natural object of settled re- 
sentment, or that men do not in fact resent deliberately any 
thing but under this appearance of injury. But I must desire 
the reader not to take any assertion alone by itself, but to 
consider the whole of what is said upon it ; because this is 
necessary, not only in order to judge of the truth of it, but 
often, such is the nature of languagCy to see the very meaning 
of the assertion. Particularly as to this, injury and injustice 
is, in the Sermon itself, explained to mean, not only the more 
gross and shocking instances of wickedness, but also contempt^ 
scorn, neglect, any sort of disagreeable behavior towards a per- 
son, which he thinks other than what is due to him. And the 
general notion of injury or wrong plainly comprehends this, 
though the words are mostly confined to the higher degrees of it. 

Forgiveness of injuries is one of the very few moral obliga- 
tions which has been disputed. But the proof, that it is really 
an obligation, what our nature and condition require, seems 
very obvious, were it only from the consideration, that revenge 
is doing harm merely for harm's sake. And as to the love of 
our enemies: resentment cannot supersede the obligation to 
universal benevolence, unless they are in the nature of the 
thing inconsistent, which they plainly are not.f 

This divine precept, to forgive injuries and love our ene- 
mies, though to be met with in Gentile moralists, yet is in a 



* Chap, iii., Sect. ii. 



t Chap. III., Sect, iii., 14. 



44 



INTRODUCTION. 



peculiar sense a precept of Christianity ; as our Saviour has 
insisted more upon it than upon any other single virtue. One 
reason of this doubtless is, that it so peculiarly becomes an im- 
perfect, faulty creature. But it may be observed also, that a 
virtuous temper of mind, consciousness of innocence, and good 
meaning towards everybody, and a strong feeling of injustice 
and injury, may itself, such is the imperfection of our virtue, 
lead a person to violate this obligation, if he be not upon his 
guard. And it may well be supposed, that this is another 
reason why it is so much insisted upon by him, who hneiv ivJiat 
ivas in man. 

The chief design of the eleventh Discourse * is to state the 
notion of self-love and disinterestedness, in order to show that 
benevolence is not more unfriendly to self-love, than any other 
particular affection whatever. There is a strange affectation 
in many people of explaining away all particular affections, 
and representing the whole life as nothing but one continued 
exercise of self-love. Hence arises that surprising confusion 
and perplexity in the Epicureans f of old, Plobbes, the author:]: 

* Chap, i., Sect. IV. 

t One need only look into Torquatus's account of the Epicurean sys- 
tem, in Cicero's first book De Finibus, to see in what a surprising man- 
ner this was done by them. Thus the desire of praise, and of being be- 
loved, he explains to be no other than desire of safety : regard to our 
country, even in the most virtuous character, to be nothing but regard to 
ourselves. The author of JRefiections, etc., Morales, says, Curiosity pro- 
ceeds from interest or pride ; which pride also would doubtless have been 
explained to bo self-love. Page 85, ed. 1725. As if there were no such 
passions in mankind as desire of esteem, or of being beloved, or of knowl- 
edge. Ilobbes's account of the affections of good-will and pity are in- 
stances of the same kind. 

t La Rochefoucauld. — Ed. 



II 



INTRODUCTION. 



45 



of Reflections^ Sentences, et Maxiines Morales, and tliis whole 
set of writers ; the confusion of calling actions interested 
which are done in contradiction to the most manifest known 
interest, merely for the gratification of a present passion, 
Kow all this confusion might easily be avoided, by stating to 
ourselves wherein the idea of self-love in general consists, as 
distinguished from all particular movements towards particulax" 
external objects ; the appetites of sense, resentment, com- 
passion, curiosity, ambition, and the rest.* "When this is done, 
if the words seJJish and interested cannot be parted v/ith, but 
must be applied to every thing ; yet, to avoid such total con- 
fusion of all language, let the distinction be made by epithets : 
and the first may be called cool or settled selfishness, and the 
other passionate or sensual selfishness. But the most natural 
way of speaking plainly is, to call the first only, self-love, and 
the actions proceeding from it, interested ; and to say of the 
latter, that they are not love to ourselves, but movements to- 
wards somev/hat external : honour, power, the harm or good of 
another ; and that the pursuit of these external objects, so far 
as it proceeds from these mevements ( for it may proceed from 
self-lovef), is no otherwise interested, than as every action of 
every creature must, from the nature of the thing, be ; for no 
one can act but from a desire, or choice, or preference of his 
own. 

Self-love and any particular passion may be joined together ; 
and from this complication, it becomes impossible in number- 
less instances to determine precisely, hovr far an action, per- 
haps even of one's own, has for its principle general self-love, 
or some particular passion. But this need create no confusion 

* Chap, i., Sect, iv., 3. t See Note, Chap, i., Sect. i. 



r 



46 



INTRODUCTION. 



in the ideas themselves of self-love and particular passions. 
We distinctly discern what one is, and what the others are ; 
though we may be uncertain how far one or the other influ- 
ences us. And though, from this uncertainty, it cannot but be 
that there will be different opinions concerning mankind, as 
more or less governed by interest ; and some will ascribe ac- 
tions to self-love, which others will ascribe to particular pas- 
sions : yet it is absurd to say that mankind are wholly actuated 
by either ; since it is manifest that both have their influence. 
For as, on the one hand, men form a general notion of interest, 
some placing it in one thing, and some in another, and have a 
considerable regard to it throughout the course of their life, 
which is owing to self-love ; so, on the other hand, they are 
often set on work by the particular passions themselves, and a 
considerable part of life is spent in the actual gratification of 
them; i.e., is employed, not by self-love, but by the passions. 

Besides, the very idea of an interested pursuit necessarily 
presupposes particular passions or appetites; since the very 
idea of interest or happiness consists in this, that an appetite 
or affection enjoys its object. It is not because we love our- 
selves that we find delight in such and such objects, but be- 
cause we have particular affections towards them. Take away 
these affections, and you leave self-love absolutely nothing at 
all to employ itself about;* no end or object for it to pursue, 
excepting only that of avoiding pain. Indeed the Epicureans, 
who maintained that absence of pain was the highest happi- 
ness, might, consistently with themselves, deny all affection, 
and if they had so pleased, every sensual appetite too ; but the 
very idea of interest or happiness other than absence of pain, 



* Chap, i., Sect, iv., 9. 



INTRODUCTION. 



47 



implies particular appetites or passions ; these being necessary 
to constitute that interest or happiness. 

The observation that benevolence is no more disinterested 
than any of the common particular passions,* seems in itself 
worth being taken notice of ; but is insisted upon to obviate 
that scorn, which one sees rising upon the faces of people who 
are said to know the world, when mention is made of a disin- 
terested, generous, or pubhc-spirited action. The truth of that 
observation might be made to appear in a more formal manner 
of proof ; for whoever will consider all the possible respects 
and relations which any particular affection can have to self- 
love and private interest, will, I think, see demonstrably, that 
benevolence is not in any respect more at variance with self- 
love, than any other particular affection whatever, but that it 
is in every respect, at least, as friendly to it. 

If the observation be true, it follows, that self-love and be- 
nevolence, virtue and interest, are not to be opposed, but only 
to be distinguished from each other ; in the same way as vir- 
tue and any other particular affection, love of arts, suppose, 
are to be distinguished. Every thing is what it is, and not 
another thing. The goodness or badness of actions does not 
arise from hence, that the epithet, interested or disinterested, 
may be applied to them, any more than that any other indiffer- 
ent epithet, suppose inquisitive or jealous, may or may not be 
applied to them : not from their being attended with present or 
future pleasure or pain ; but from their being wdiat they are ; 
namely, what becomes such creatures as we are, what the state 
of the case requires, or the contrary. Or in other words, we 
may judge and determine, that an action is morally good or 



* Chap, i., Sect, iv,, 13. 



48 



INTRODUCTION. 



evil, before we so much as consider, whether it. be interested 
or disinterested. This consideration no more comes in to de- 
termine whether an action be virtuous, than to determine 
whether it be resentfuL Self-love, in its due degree, is as just 
and morally good, as any affection whatever. Benevolence 
towards particular persons may be to a degree of weakness, and 
so blameable ; and disinterestedness is so far from being in it- 
self commendable, that the utmost possible depravity which 
we can in imagination conceive, is that of disinterested cruelty. 

Neither does there appear any reason to wish self-love were 
weaker in the generality of the world than it is. The influ- 
ence which it has seems plainly owing to its being constant 
and habitual, which it cannot but be, and not to the degree or 
strength of it. Every caprice of the imagination, every curi- 
osity of the understanding, every affection of the heart, is 
perpetually showing its weakness, by prevailing over it. Men 
daily, hourly sacrifice the greatest known interest, to fancy, 
inquisitiveness, love, or hatred, any vagrant inclination. The 
thing to be lamented is, not that men have so great regard to 
their own good or interest in the present world, for they have 
not enough; * but that they have so little to the good of others. 
And this seems plainly owing to their being so much engaged 
in the gratification of particular passions unfriendly to benevo- 
lence, and which happen to be most prevalent in them, much 
more than to self-love. As a proof of this may be observed, 
that there is no character more void of friendship, gratitude, * 
natural affection, love to their country, common justice, or 
more equally and uniformly hardhearted, than the abandoned in, 
what is called, the way of pleasure — hard-hearted and totally 

* Chap, i., Sect, i., 20, 23. 



II 



INTRODUCTION. 



49 



without feeling in behalf of others ; except when they cannot 
escape the sight of distress, and so are interrupted by it in their 
pleasures. And yet it is ridiculous to call such an abandoned 
course of pleasure interested, when the person engaged in it 
knows beforehand, and goes on under the feeling and appre- 
hension, that it will be as ruinous to himself, as to those who 
depend upon him. 

Upon the whole, if the generality of mankind were to culti- 
vate within themselves the principle of self-love ; if they 
were to accustom themselves often to sit down and consider, 
what was the greatest happiness they were capable of attaining 
for themselves in this life, and if self-love were so strong and 
prevalent, as that they would uniformly pursue this their sup- 
posed chief temporal good, without being diverted from it by 
any particular passion ; it would manifestly prevent number- 
; less follies and vices. This was, in a great measure, the 
j Epicurean system of philosophy. It is, indeed, by no means 
I the religious or even moral institution of life. Yet, with all 
j the mistakes men would fall into about interest, it would be 
j less mischievous than the extravagances of mere appetite, will, 
! and pleasure; for certainly self-love, though confined to the 
I interest of this life, is, of the two, a much better guide than 
passion,* which has absolutely no bound nor measure, but 
I what is set to it by this self-love, or moral considerations. 
I From the distinction above made between self-love, and the 
j several particular principles or affections in our nature, we 
'I may see how good ground there was for that assertion, main- 
ji tained by the several ancient schools of philosophy against the 
Epicureans, namely, that virtue is to be pursued as an end, 



* Chap. i. Sect, i., 20-22. 
5 



50 



INTRODUCTION. 



eligible in and for itself. For, if there be any principles or 
affections in the mind of man distinct from self-love, that the 
things those principles tend towards, or that the objects of 
those affections are, each of them, in themselves eligible, to be 
pursued upon its own account, and to be rested in as an end, is 
implied in the very idea of such principle or affection. They 
indeed asserted much higher things of virtue, and with very 
good reason ; but to say thus much of it, that it is to be pur- 
sued for itself, is to say no more of it, than may truly be said 
of the object of every natural affection whatever. 

The question, which was a few years ago disputed in France, 
concerning the love of God, which was there called enthu- 
siasm, as it will everywhere by the generality of the world ; 
this question, I say, answers in religion to that old one in 
morals now mentioned. And both of them are, I think, fully 
determined by the same observation, namely, that the very 
nature of affection, the idea itself, necessarily implies resting 
in its object as an end, 

I shall not liere add any thing further to what I have said 
in the two Discourses upon that most important subject, but 
only this : that if we are constituted such sort of creatures, as 
from our very nature to feel certain affections or movements 
of mind, upon the sight or contemplation of the meanest inani- 
mate part of the creation, for the flowers of the field have 
their beauty ; certainly there must be somewhat due to Him 
himself, who is the Author and Cause of all things ; who is 
more intimately present to us than any thing else can be, and 
with whom we have a nearer and more constant intercourse, 
than we can have Avith any creature : there must be some 
movements of mind and heart which correspond to his per- 



INTEODUCTION. 



51 



fections, or of which those perfections are the natural objects ; 
and that when we are commanded to love the Lord our God 
with all our heart, and with all our mind, and with all our soul, 
somewhat more must be meant than merely that we live in 
hope of rewards or fear of punishments from him ; somewhat 
more than this must be intended ; though these regards them- 
selves are most just and reasonable, and absolutely necessary 
to be often recollected in such a world as this. 



CHAPTER I. 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 

SECTION I. 
GENERAL ACCOUNT OF MAN'S NATURE.* 

1. General principle stated. — From a review and 
comparison of the natm*e of man as respecting self, 
and as respecting society, it will plainly appear, that 
there are as real and the same kind of indications in 
human nature^ that we ivere made for society and to do 
good to our felloio creatures ; as that we ivere intended 
to take care of our own life and health and private 
good: and that the same objections lie against one of 
these assertions^ as against the other. For, 

"2. We have benevolent affections. — First, There is a 
natural principle of benevolence^ in man ; which is in 

=^ Eirst Sermon at the Rolls, Avitli the exception of a few introductory- 
paragraphs. It was preached from the text, — " For as we have many 
members in one body, and all members have not the same office : so we, 
being many, are one body in Christ, and every one members one of 
another. — Romans, 12: 4, 5." 

t Suppose a man of learning to be writing a grave book upon human 
nature, and to show in several parts of it that he had an insight into the 
subject he was considering; amongst other things, the following one 
would require to be accounted for ; the appearance of benevolence or 
good-will in men towards each other in the instances of natural relation, 
and in others.* 



* Hobbes of Human Nature, c. ix., § 17. 



53 



64 MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 

some degree to society what self-love is to the inclivid' 



Cautious of being deceived with outward show, he retires within him- 
self to see exactly, what that is in the mind of man from whence this ap- 
pearance proceeds ; and, upon deep reflection, asserts the principle in the 
mind to be only the love of power, and delight in the exercise of it. 
Would not everybody think here was a mistake of one word for another ? 
that the philosopher was contemplating and accounting for some other 
human actions, some other behavior of man to man 1 

And could any one be thoroughly satisfied, that what is commonly 
called benevolence or good-will was really the affection meant, but only 
by being made to understand that this learned person had a general hy- 
pothesis, to which the appearance of good-will could no otherwise be re- 
conciled 1 That what has this appearance is often nothing but ambition ; 
that delight in superiority often (suppose always) mixes itself with be- 
nevolence, only makes it more sjDecious to call it ambition than hunger, 
of the two : but in reality that passion does no more account for the 
whole appearance of good-will, than this appetite does. 

Is there not often the appearance of one man's wishing that good to 
another, which he knows himself unable to procure him ; and rejoicing 
in it, though bestowed by a third person ? And can love of power any 
way possibly come into account for this desire or delight ? Is there not 
often the appearance of men's distinguishing between two or more per- 
sons, preferring one before another, to do good to, in cases where love of 
power cannot in the least account for the distinction and preference ? 
For this principle can no otherwise distinguish between objects, than as it 
is a greater instance and exertion of power to do good to one rather than 
to another. 

Again, suppose good-will in the mind of man to be nothing but delight 
in the exercise of power : men might indeed be restrained by distant and 
accidental considerations ; but these restraints being removed, they would 
have a disposition to, and delight in mischief as an exercise and proof of 
power : and this disposition and delight would arise from, or be the same 
principle in, the mind, as a disposition to, and delight in charity. Thus 
cruelty, as distinct from envy and resentment, would be exactly the same 
in the mind of man as good-will : that one tends to the happiness, the 
other to the misery of our fellow-creatures, is, it seems, merely an acci- 
dental circumstance, which the mind has not the least regard to. . These 
are the absurdities which even men of capacity run into, when they have 
occasion to belie their nature, and will perversely disclaim that image of 
God which was originally stamped upon it, the traces of Avhich, however 
faint, arc plainly discernible upon the mind of man. 



GENERAL ACCOrXT OF MAN'S NATURE. 



55 



ital. And if there be in manldncl any disposition to 
friendship : if there be any such tiling as compassion, 
for compassion is momentary love; if there be any 
such thing as the paternal or filial affections ; if there 
be any affection in human nature, the object and end 
of which is the good of another ; this is itself benev- 
olence, or the love of another. Be it ever so short, be 
it in ever so low a degree, or ever so unhappily con- 
fined : it proves the assertion, and points out Vvdiat we 
were designed for, as really as though it V\'ere in a 
liicrher demree and more extensive. 

3. Benevolence and self-love not in conflict. — I mitst, 
however, remind you, that though benevolence and 
self-love are different : thousrh the former tends most 
directly to public good, and the latter to private ; yet 
they are so perfectly coincident, that the greatest satis- 
factions to ourselves depend upon our having benevo- 
lence in a due degree ; and that self-love is one chief 



If any person can in earnest doubt, whether there be such a thing as 
good-will in one man towards another (for the question is not concern- 
ing either the degree or extensiveness of it, but concerning the aflfection 
itself), let it be observed, that v-lietlier man he thus or otherwise constituted, 
what is the inward frame in this pai-ticular, is a mere question of fact or 
natural history, not provable immediately by reason. It is therefore to 
be judged of and determined in the same way other facts or matters of 
natural history are : by appealing to the external senses, or inward per- 
ceptions, respectively, as the matter under consideration is cognizable by 
one or the other : by arguing from acknowledged facts and actions ; for a 
great number of actions of the same kind, in different circumstances, 
and respecting different objects, wHl prove, to a certainty, what principles 
they do not, and, to the greatest probability, what principles they do pro- 
ceed from ; and lastly, by the testimony of mankind. 

Now that there is some degree of benevolence amongst men, may be 
as strongly and plainly proved in all these ways, as it could possibly be 
proved, supposing there was this affection in our nature. And should 



56 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF HAN. 



security of our right behavior* towards society. It 
may be added, that their mutual coinciding, so that we 
can scarce promote one without the other, is equally a 
proof that we were made for both. 

4. The other affections^ also, are both public and 
private. — Secondly, This will further appear, from 
observing that the several passions and affections, which 
are distinct f both from benevolence and self-love, do 



any one think fit to assert, that resentment in the mind of man was abso- 
lutely nothing but reasonable concern for our own safety, the falsity of 
this, and what is the real nature of that passion, -could be shown in no 
other ways than those in which it may be shown, that there is such a 
thing in some degree as real good-will in man towards man. It is suf- 
ficient that the seeds of it be implanted in our nature by God. There is, 
it is owned, much left for us to do upon our own heart and temper ; to 
cultivate, to improve, to call it forth, to exercise it in a steady, uniform 
manner. This is our work : this is virtue and religion. 

That is, conduct right in itself, or according to right relations, but 
not virtuous in the individual, if done from purely selfish motives. God 
has so arranged things that men must do good to others in seeking their 
own, but no thanks to them if they do not intend it. — Ed. 

t Everybody makes a distinction between self-love, and the several 
particular passions, appetites and aifections ; and yet they are often con- 
founded again. That they are totally different, will be seen by "any one 
'who will distinguish between the passions and appetites themselves, and 
endeavoring after the means of their gratification. 

Consider the appetite of hunger, and the desire of esteem ; these being 
the occasion, both of pleasure and pain, the coolest self-love, as well as 
tlie appetites and passions themselves, may put us upon making use of 
the proper methods of obtaining that pleasure, and avoiding that pain ; but 
the feelings themselves, the pain of hunger and shame, and the delight 
from esteem, are no more self-love than they are any thing in the world. 
Though a man hated himself, he would as much feel the pain of hunger 
as he would that of the gout ; and it is plainly supposable there may be 
creatures witli self-love in them to the highest degree, who may be quite 
insensible and indifrcrent (as men in some cases arc) to the contempt and 
esteem of those upon whom their happiness docs not in some further re- 
spects depend. And as self-love and the several particular passions and 



GENERAL ACCOUNT OF MAN'S NATURE. 



57 



in general contribute and lead us to public good as 
really as to private. 

5. Not to he thoroughly classified. — It might be 
thought too minute and particular, and would carry us 
to too great a length, to distinguish between and com- 
pare together the several passions or appetites distinct 
from benevolence, whose primary use and intention is 
the security and good of society; and the passions 
distinct from self-love, whose primary intention and 
design is the security and good of the individual.* 



appetites are in themselves totally different ; so, that some actions pro- 
ceed from one, and some from the other, will be manifest to any one who 
will observe the two following very supposable cases. 

One man rushes upon certain ruin for the gratification of a present 
desire : nobody will call the principle of this action self-love. Suppose 
another man to go through some laborious work upon promise of a great 
reward without any distinct knowledge what the reward will be : this 
course of action cannot be ascribed to any particular passion. The 
former of these actions is plainly to be imputed to some particular pas- 
sion or affection, the latter as plainly to the general affection or principle 
of self-love. That there are some particular pursuits or actions con- 
cerning which we cannot determine how far they are owing to one, and 
how far to the other, proceeds from this, that the two principles are fre- 
quently mixed together, and run up into each other. This distinction is 
furtlier explained in the eleventh sermon. 

* If any desire to see this distinction and comparison made in a 
particular instance, the appetite and passion now mentioned may serve 
for one. Hunger is to be considered as a private appetite ; because the 
end for which it was given us is the preservation of the individual. De- 
sire of esteem is a public passion ; because the end for which it was given 
us is to regulate our behavior towards society. The respect wliicli this 
has to private good is as remote as the respect that has to public good : 
and the appetite is no more self-love, than the passion in benevolence. 
The object and end of the former is merely food ; the object and end of 
the latter is merely esteem ; but the latter can no more be gratified, with- 
out contributing to the good of society, tlian the former can be gratified, 
without contributing to the preservation of the individual. 



58 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



6. Instances of public affections. — It is enough to 
the present argument, that deske of esteem from others, 
contempt and esteem of them, love of society as dis- 
tinct from affection to the good of it, indignation 
against successful vice, that these are public affections 
or passions ; have an immediate respect to others, nat- 
urally lead us to regulate our behavior in such a 
manner as will be of service to our fellow-creatm'es. 
If any or all of these may be considered likewise as 
private affections, as tending to private good ; this does 
not hinder them from being public affections too, or 
destroy the good influence of them upon society, and 
their tendency to public good. 

7. Private affections often unconsciously tend to the 
puhlic good. — It may be added, that as persons with- 
out any conviction from reason of the desirableness of 
life, would yet of course preserve it merely from the 
appetite of hunger ; so by acting merely from regard 
(suppose) to reputation, without any consideration of 
the good of others, men often contribute to public 
good. In both these instances they are plainly instru- 
ments in the hands of another, in the hands of Provi- 
dence, to carry on ends, the preservation of the indi- 
vidual and good of society, which they themselves 
have not in their view or intention. 

8. Hence our affections shoiu that ive should do good 
to others as ivell as to ourselves. — The sum is, men 
have various appetites, passions, and particular affec- 
tions, quite distinct both from self-love and from be- 
nevolence : all of these have a tendency to promote 
both public and private good, and may be considered 
as respecting others and om'selves equally and in com- 
mon : but some of them seem most immediately to 



GENERAL ACCOUNT OF MAN'S NATURE. 



59 



respect others, or tend to public good ; others of them 
most immediately to respect self, or tend to private 
good : as the former are not benevolence, so the latter 
are not self-love : neither sort are instances of our love, 
either to ourselves or others ; but only instances of 
our Maker's care and love both of the individual and 
the species, and proofs that he intended we should be 
instruments of good to each other, as well as that we 
should be so to ourselves. 

9. We have also a conscience. — Thirdly, There is a 
principle of reflection in men, by which they distinguish 
between, approve and disapprove, their own actions. 
We are plainly constituted such sort of creatures as to 
reflect upon our own nature. The mind can take a 
view of what passes within itself, its propensions, aver- 
sions, passions, aflections, as respecting such objects, 
and in such degrees ; and of the several actions conse- 
quent thereupon. In this survey it approves of one, 
disapproves of another, and toward a third is aflected 
in neither of these ways, but is quite indiflerent. 
This principle in man, by which he approves* or dis- 
approves his heart, temper, and actions, is conscience ; 
for this is the strict sense of the word, though some- 
times it is used so as to take in more. 

10. Tends to social good, — And that this faculty 
tends to restrain men from doing mischief to each 

* Approbation is merely a pleasurable assent to something as proved, 
established, defensible. But assent and feeling are only the necessary 
sequence and conclusion of an antecedent intellectual process or percep- 
tion. Hence, conscience must include the perception of right and wrong 
in actions, as well as the feeling consequent upon such perception or 
determination. And it is usually taken in a sense sufficiently wide to 
include this by Butler. — Ed. 



60 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



other, and leads them to do good, is too manifest to 
need being insisted upon. Thus a parent has the affec- 
tion of love to his childi'en ; this leads him to take care 
of, to educate, to make due provision for them; the 
natural affection leads to this : but the reflection that it 
is his proper business, what belongs to him, that it is 
right and commendable so to do; this added to the 
affection becomes a much more settled principle, and 
carries him on through more labor and difficulties for 
the sake of his children, than he would undergo from 
that affection alone, if he thought it, and the course of 
action it led to, either indifferent or criminal. This 
indeed is impossible, to do that which is good, and not 
to approve of it ; for which reason they are frequently 
not considered as distinct, though they really are : for 
men often approve of the actions of others, which they 
will not imitate, and lilvcwise do that which they ap- 
prove not. 

11. Proof of its existence. — It cannot possibly be 
denied, that there is this principle of reflection or con- 
science in human nature. Suppose a man to relieve 
an innocent person in great disti-ess ; suppose the same 
man afterwards, in the fury of anger, to do the greatest 
mischief to a person who had given no just cause of 
offence; to aggravate the injury, add the circumstances 
of former friendship, and obligation from the injured 
person ; let the man Vv ho is supposed to have done 
these two different actions, coolly reflect upon them 
afterwards, without regard to their consequences to 
himself : to assert that any common man would be af- 
fected in the same way toward these different actions, 
that he would make no distinction between them, but 



ii 



GENERAL ACCOUNT OP MAN'S NATURE. 



61 



approve or disapprove them equally, is too glaring a 
falsehood to need being confuted. There is, therefore, 
this principle of reflection or conscience in mankind. 

12. To be more accurately defined hereafter. — It is 
needless to compare the respect it has to private good, 
with the respect it has to public ; since it plainly tends 
as much to the latter as to the former, and is com- 
monly thought, to tend chiefly to the latter. This 
faculty is now mentioned merely as another part in the 
inward frame of man, pointing out to us in some de- 
gree what we are intended for, and as what will natur- 
ally and of course have some influence. The particu- 
lar place assigned to it by nature, what authority it has, 
and how great influence it ought to have, shall be here- 
after considered. 

13. Man made for Society. — From this comparison 
of benevolence and self-love, of our public and private 
affections, of the courses of life they lead to, and of the 
principle of reflection or conscience as respecting each 
of them, it is as manifest, that we were made for soci- 
ety^ and to promote the happiness of it, as that lue luere 
intended to take care of our oiun life, and health, and 
private good. 

man's nature SOCIAL. 

14. Men are attracted to each other. — And from this 
whole review must be given a different draught of 

. human nature from what we are often presented with.* 
Mankind are by nature so closely united, there is such 



* The allusion is especially to Hobbes, who taught that the natural state 
if man is that of hostility or war. See his Leviathan, Chap. xiii. — Ed. 
6 



62 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



a correspondence between the inward sensations of one 
man and those of another, that disgrace is as much 
avoided as bodily pain, and to be the object of esteem 
and love as much desired as any external goods : and 
in many particular cases, persons are carried on to do 
good to others, as the end their affection tends to and 
rests in ; and manifest that they find real satisfaction 
and enjoyment in this course of behavior. There is 
such a natural principle of attraction in man toward 
man, that having trod the same tract of land, having 
breathed in the same climate, barely having been born 
in the same artificial district or division, becomes the 
occasion of contracting acquaintances and familiarities 
many years after ; for anything may serve the purpose. 

15. Illustrated. — Thus relations merely nominal are 
sought and invented, not by governors, but by the low- 
est of the people ; which are found sufficient to hold 
mankind together in little fraternities and copartner- 
ships : weak ties indeed, and what may afibrd fund 
enough for ridicule, if they are absurdly considered as 
the real principles of that union : but they are in truth 
merely the occasions, as anything may be of anything, 
upon which our nature carries us on according to its 
own previous bent and bias ; which occasions therefore 
would be nothing at all, were there not this prior dis- 
position and bias of nature. 

16. Men are virtualli/ one body. — Men are so much 
one body, that in a peculiar manner they feel for each 
other, shame, sudden danger, resentment, honor, pros- 
perity, distress ; one or another, or all of these, from 
the social nature in general, from benevolence, upon the 
occasion of natural relation, acquaintance, protection, 
dependence ; each of these being distinct cements oi 



GENERAL ACCOUNT OF MAN'S NATURE. 



63 



society. And therefore to have no restraint from, no 
regard to others in our behavior, is the speculative ab- 
surdity of considering ourselves as single and independ- 
ent, as having nothing in our nature which has respect 
to our fellow-creatures, reduced to action and practice. 
And this is the same absurdity, as to suppose a hand 
or any part to have no natural respect to any other, or 
to the whole body. 

17. Queries about malevolent affections. — But allow- 
ing all this, it may be asked, "Has not man dispositions 
and principles within, which lead him to do evil to 
others, as well as to do good ? Whence come the 
many miseries else, which men are the authors and in- 
struments of to each other ? " These questions, so far 
as they relate to the foregoing discourse, may be 
answered by asking, Has not man also dispositions and 
principles within, which lead him to do evil to himself 
as well as good? Whence come the many miseries 
else, sickness, pain, and death, which men are instru- 
ments and authors of to themselves ? 

18. Man has neither self-hatred^ nor fellow -hatred^ 
nor love of ivrong as such. — It may be thought more 
easy to answer one of these questions than the other, 
but the answer to both is really the same ; that man- 
kind have ungoverned passions which they will gratify 
at any rate, as well to the injury of others, as in con- 
tradiction to known private interest : but that as there 
is no such thing as self-hatred, so neither is there any 
such thing as ill-will in one man toward another, emu- 
lation and resentment being away ; whereas there is 
plainly benevolence or good-will : there is no such thing 
as love of injustice, oppression, treachery, ingratitude ; 
but only eager desires after such and such external 



64 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



goods ; which, according to a very ancient observation, 
the most abandoned would choose to obtain by inno- 
cent means, if they were as easy, and as effectual to 
their end ; that even emulation and resentment, by any 
one who will consider what these passions really are in 
nature,* will be found nothing to the purpose of this 
objection; and that the principles and passions in the 
mind of man, which are distinct both from self-love 
and benevolence, primarily and most directly lead to 
right behavior with regard to others as well as himself, 
and only secondarily and accidentally to what is evil. 
Thus, though men, to avoid the shame of one villany, 
are sometimes guilty of a greater, yet it is easy to see 
that the original tendency of shame is to prevent the 
doing of shameful actions ; and its leading men to con- 
ceal such actions when done, is only in consequence of 
their being done ; i.e., of the passion's not having 
answered its first end. 

19. Exceptional cases both of private and public 
affections. — If it be said, that there are persons in the 
world who are in great measure without the natural 
.affections toward their fellow-creatures; there are like- 
wise instances of persons without the common natural 

* Emulation is merely the desire and hope of equality with, or supe- 
riority over others, with whom we compare ourselves. There does not 
appear to be any other grief in the natural passion, but only that icant 
which is implied in desire. However, this may be so strong as to be the 
occasion of great grief. To desire the attainment of this equality or 
superiority by tlie particular means of others being brought down to our 
own level, or below it, is, I think, the distinct notion of enyy. From 
whence it is easy to sec, that tlic real end, wliich the natural passion emu- 
lation, and which the unlawful one envy aims at, is exactly the same ; 
namely, tliat equality or superiority ; and consequently, that to do niis- 
cliief is not the end of env}^, but merely the means it makes use of to at- 
tain its end. As to resentment, sec the eighth sermon. 



GENERAL ACCOUNT OF MAN's NATURE. G5 

affections to themselves : but the nature of man is not 
to be judged of by either of these, but by what appears 
in the common world, in the bulk of mankind. 

20. Men as often contradict self-love as benevolence. — 
I am afraid it would be thought very strange, if to con- 
firm the truth of this account of human nature, and 
make out the justness of the foregoing comparison, it 
should be added, that, from what appears, men in fact 
as much and as often contradict that part of their na- 
ture which respects self and which leads them to their 
01U71 private good and happiness, as they contradict 
that part of it which respects society^ and tends to pub- 
lic good : that there are as few persons, who attain the 
greatest satisfaction and enjoyment which they might 
attain in the present world, as who do the greatest 
good to others which they might do : nay, that there 
are as few who can be said really and in earnest to aim 
at one, as at the other. 

21. Proof of this. — Take a survey of mankind: the 
world in general, the good and bad, almost without 
exception, equally are agreed, that were religion out of 
the case, the happiness of the present life would con- 
sist in a manner wholly in riches, honors, sensual grat- 
ifications ; insomuch that one scarce hears a reflection 
made upon prudence, life, conduct, but upon this sup- 
position. Yet on the contrary, that persons in the 
greatest affluence of fortune are no happier than such 
as have only a competency ; that the cares and disap- 
pointments of ambition for the most part far exceed 
the satisfactions of it; as also the miserable intervals 
of intemperance and excess, and the many untimely 
deaths occasioned by a dissolute course of life : these 
things are all seen, acknowledged, by every one ac- 

6^= 



66 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OP MAN. 



knowledged ; but are thought no objections against, 
though they expressly contradict, this universal princi- 
ple, that the happiness of the present life consists in 
one or other of them. Whence is all this absurdity 
and contradiction ? Is not the middle way obvious ? 
Can any thing be more manifest, than that the happi- 
ness of life consists in these possessed and enjoyed 
only to a certain degree ; that to pursue them beyond 
this degree, is always attended with more inconven- 
ience than advantage to a man's self, and often with 
extreme misery and unhappiness. 

22. Reason of this. — Whence then, I say, is all this 
absurdity and contradiction ? Is it really the result of 
consideration in mankind, how they may become most 
easy to themselves, most free from care, and enjoy the 
chief happiness attainable in this world ? Or is it not 
manifestly owing either to this, that they have not cool 
and reasonable concern enough for themselves to con- 
sider wherein their chief happiness in the present life 
consists ; or else, if they do consider it, that they will 
not act conformably to what is the result of that con- 
sideration ; reasonable concern for themselves, or 
cool self-love is prevailed over by passion and appetite. 
So that from what appears, there is no ground to as- 
sert that those principles in the nature of man, which 
most directly lead to promote the good of our fellow- 
creatures, are more generally or in a greater degree vio- 
lated, than those which most directly lead us to pro- 
mote our own private good and happiness. 

23. Men obey both classes of affections but imper- 
fectly. — The sum of the whole is plainly this. The 
nature of man considered in his single capacity, and 
with respect only to the present world, is adapted and 



HUMAN NATURE AS A GUIDE IN MORALS. G7 

leads him to attain the greatest happiness he can for 
himself in the present world. The nature of man con- 
sidered in his public or social capacity leads him to a 
right behavior in society, to that course of life which 
we call virtue. Men follow or obey their nature in 
both these capacities and respects to a certain degree, 
but not entirely : their actions do not come up to the 
whole of what their nature leads them to in either of 
these capacities or respects : and they often violate 
their nature in both, i.e., as they neglect the duties they 
owe to their fellow-creatures, to which their nature 
leads them ; and are injurious, to which their nature is 
abhorrent : so there is a manifest negligence in men of 
their real happiness or interest in the present world, 
when that interest is inconsistent with a present grati- 
fication ; for the sake of which they negligently, nay, 
even knowingly, are the authors and instruments of 
their own misery and ruin. Thus they are as oftea 
unjust to themselves as to others, and for the most part 
are equally so to both by the same actions. 



SECTION II. 
HUMAN NATURE AS A GUIDE IN MORALS.* 

1. Constitution proves intention. — As speculative 
j truth admits of different kinds of proof, so likewise 

I * Second sermon at the Rolls, preached from the text, " For when 

I the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the things contained 

I in the law, these, having not the law, are a law unto themselves." — 

i Romans. 2 : 14. 



68 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



moral obligations may be shown by different methods. 
If the real natm-e of any creature leads him and is 
adapted to such and such purposes only, or more than 
to any other ; this is a reason to believe the author 
of that nature intended it for those purposes. Thus 
there is no doubt the eye was intended for us to see 
with. And the more complex any constitution is, and 
the greater variety of parts there are which thus tend 
to some one end, the stronger is the proof that such 
end was designed. 

2. But should be made out with care. — However, 
when the inward frame of man is considered as any 
guide in morals, the utmost caution must be used that 
none make peculiarities in their own temper, or any 
thing which is the effect of particular customs, though 
observable in several, the standard of what is common 
to the species ; and above all, that the highest principle 
be not forgot or excluded, that to which belongs the 
adjustment and correction of all other inward move-- 
ments and affections ; which principle will of course 
have some influence, but which being in nature su- 
preme, as shall now be shown, ought to preside over 
and govern all the rest. 

3. For want of which there is not an agreement as to 
ivhat this constitution is. — The difficulty of rightly ob- 
serving the two former cautions ; the appearance there 
is of some small diversity amongst mankind with re- 
spect to this faculty, with respect to their natural sense 
of moral good and evil ; and the attention necessary 
to survey with any exactness what passes within, have 
occasioned that it is not so much agreed what is the 
standard of the internal nature of man, as of his exter- 
nal form. Neither is this last exactly settled. Yet we 



HUMAN NATURE AS A GUIDE IN MORALS. G9 

understand one another when we speak of the shape 
of a human body : so likewise we do when we speak 
of the heart and inward principles, how far soever the 
standard is from being exact or precisely fixed. There 
is therefore ground for an attempt of showing men to 
themselves, of showing them what course of life and 
behavior their real nature points out and would lead 
them to. 

4. Moral constitution proves intention. — Now obli- 
gations of virtue shown, and motives to the practice 
of it enforced, from a review of the nature of man, are 
to be considered as an appeal to each particular per- 
son's heart and natural conscience : as the external 
senses are appealed to for the proof of things cogniza- 
ble by them. Since, then, our inward feelings, and the 
perceptions we receive from our external senses, are 
equally rea], to argue from the former to life and con- 
duct is as little liable to exception, as to argue from 
the latter to absolute speculative truth. A man can as 
little doubt whether his eyes were given him to see 
with, as he can doubt of the truth of the science of 
optics^ deduced from ocular experiments. And allow- 
I ing the inward feeling, shame ; a man can as little 
i doubt whether it was given him to prevent his doing 
shameful actions, as he can doubt whether his eyes 
I were given him to guide his steps. And as to these 
inward feelings themselves ; that they are real, that 
man has in his nature passions and affections, can no 
more be questioned, than that he has external senses, 
j Neither can the former be wholly mistaken ; though to 
I a certain degree liable to greater mistakes than the 
latter. 

, 5. Man's constitution tends to the g-ood of society, — 



70 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



There can be no doubt but that several propensions or 
instincts, severa.1 principles in the heart of man carry 
him to society, and to contribute to the happiness of it, 
in a sense and a manner in which no inward principle 
leads him to evil. These principles, propensions, or 
instincts vvhich lead him to do good, are approved of 
by a certain faculty within, quite distinct from these 
propensions themselves. All this hath been fully m^ade 
out in the foregoing discourse. 

WHAT IT IS TO FOLLOW NATURE. 

6. But acting from conscience merely as the strongest 
principle is not virtue. — But it may be said, " What 
is all this, though true, to the purpose of virtue and 
religion ? these require, not only that we do good to 
others, when we are led this way, by benevolence or 
reflection happening to be stronger than other princi- 
ples, passions, or appetites ; but likewise that the luhole 
character be formed upon thought and reflection ; that 
every action be directed by some determinate rule, some 
other rule than the strength and prevalency of any 
principle or passion. What sign is there in our natm-e 
(for the inquiry is only about what is to be collected 
from thence) that this was intended by its author ? Or 
how does so various and fickle a temper as that of man 
appear adapted thereto ? 

7. Nor is it anymore following nature tlian following 
any other strongest principle. — " It may indeed be ab- 
surd and unnatural for men to act without any reflection ; 
nay, without regard to that particular kind of reflection 
which you call conscience ; because this does belong 
to our nature. For as there never was a man but who 



HUMAN NATURE AS A GUIDE IN MORALS. 



71 



approved one place, prospect, building, before another, 
so it does not appear that there ever Vv^as a man who 
would not have approved an action of humanity rather 
than of cruelty ; interest and passion being quite out 
of the case. But interest and passion do come in, and 
are often too strong for and prevail over reflection and 
conscience. Now as brutes have various instincts, by 
which they are carried on to the end the Author of 
their nature intended them for, is not man in the same 
condition ; with this difference only, that to his in- 
stincts {i.e. appetites and passions) is added the prin- 
ciple of reflection or conscience ? And as brutes act 
agreeably to their nature, in following that principle or 
particular instinct which for the present is strongest in 
them, does not man likewise act agreeably to his na- 
ture, or obey the law of his creation, by following that 
principle, be it passion or conscience, which for the 
present happens to be strongest in him ? 

8. Let each one., then^ follow Ms prevailing principle 
for the time. — " Thus different men are by their par- 
ticular nature hurried on to pursue honor or riches or 
pleasure : there are also persons whose temper leads 
them in an uncommon degree to kindness, compassion, 
doing good to their fellow-creatures : as there are oth- 
ers who are given to suspend their judgment, to v/eigh 
and consider things, and to act upon thought and re- 
flection. Let every one then quietly follovv" his nature ; 
as passion, reflection, appetite, the several parts of it, 
happen to be strongest : but let not the mxan of virtue 
take upon him to blam.e the ambitious, the covetous, 
the dissolute ; since these equally Vv^ith him obey and 
follow their nature. Thus, as in some cases we follow 



72 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



oui nature in doing the works contained in the laiu, so 
in other cases we follow nature in doing contrary." 

9. But to do as ive please is not following nature. — 
Now all this licentious talk entirely goes upon a sup- 
position, that men folio v/ their nature in the same 
sense, in violating the known rules of justice and hon- 
esty for the sake of a present gratification, as they do 
in following those rules when they have no temptation 
to the contrary. And if this were true, that could not 
be so which St. Paul asserts, that men are by nature a 
laiv to themselves. If by following natm'e were meant 
only acting as we please, it would indeed be ridiculous 
to speak of nature as any guide in morals : nay, the 
very mention of deviating from nature would be ab- 
surd ; and the mention of following it, when spoken by 
way of distinction, would absolutely have no meaning. 
For did ever any one act otherwise than as he pleased ? 
And yet the ancients speak of deviating from nature as 
vice ; and of following nature so much as a distinction, 
that according to them the perfection of virtue consists 
therein. So that language itself should teach people 
another sense to the words following' nature^ than 
barely acting as we please. 

10. The word nature must he defined. — Let it how- 
ever be observed, that though the words human nature 
are to be explained, yet the real question of this dis- 
course is not concerning the meaning of words, any 
other than as the explanation of them may be needful 
to make out and explain the assertion, that every man 
is naturally a laiv to himself that every one may find 
within himself the rule of rights and obligations to 
follow it. This St. Paul affirms in the words of the 



HUMAN NATURE AS A GUIDE IN MORALS. 73 

text, and this the foregoing objection really denies by 
seeming to allow it. And the objection will be fully 
answered, and the text before us explained, by observ- 
ing that 7iatu7'e is considered in different views, and the 
word used in different senses ; and by showing in what 
view it is considered, and in what sense the word is 
used, when intended to express and signify that which 
is the guide of life, that by which men are a law to 
themselves. I say, the explanation of the term will 
be sufficient, because from thence it will appear, that 
in some senses of the word nature cannot be, but that 
in another sense it manifestly is, a law to us. 

11. First rejected meaning. — I. By nature is often 
meant no more than some principle in man, without 
regard either to the kind or degree of it. Thus the 
passion of anger, and the affection of parents to their 
children, would be called equally natural. And as the 
same person hath often contrary principles, which at 
the same time draw contrary ways, he may by the 
same action both follow and contradict his natm-e in 
this sense of the word; he may follow one passion 
and contradict another. 

12. Second rejected meaning. — II. Nature is fre- 
quently spoken of as consisting in those passions 
which are strongest, and most influence the actions ; 
which being vicious ones, mankind is in this sense nat- 
urally vicious, or vicious by natm-e. Thus St. Paul 
says of the Gentiles, who ivere dead in trespasses and 
sins, and ivalked according to the spirit of disobedience, 
that they icere by nature the children of icrath^^ They 



* Ephesians 2 ; 3. 

7 



74 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



could be no otherwise children of lurath by nature, 
than they were vicious by nature. 

Here, then, are two different senses of the word na- 
ture^ in neither of which men can at all be said to be a 
law to themselves. They are mentioned only to be 
excluded; to prevent their being confounded, as the 
latter is in the objection, with another sense of it, 
which is now to be inquired after and explained. 

13. Nature has a positive meaning. — HI. The apostle 
asserts, that the Gentiles do by NATURE the things 
contained in the laiu. Nature is indeed here put by 
way of distinction from revelation, but yet it is not 
a mere negative. He intends to express more than 
that by which they did not, that by which they did the 
works of the law; namely, by nature. It is plain the 
meaning of the word is not the same in this passage 
as in the former, where it is spoken of as evil ; for in 
this latter it is spoken of as good ; as that by which 
they acted, or might have acted virtuously. What 
that is in man by which he is naturally a laiv to him- 
self is explained in the following words ; ivhich shoiu 
the ivork of the laiv ivritten in their hearts, their con- 
science also bearing tvitness, and their thoughts the 
meanwhile accusing or else excusing one another. 

14. That part of nature expressed by heart not a laiu. 
— If there be a distinction to be made between the 
works ivritten in their hearts, and the luitness of con- 
science ; by the former must be meant the natural dis- 
position to kindness and compassion, to do what is of 
good report, to which this apostle often refers : that 
part of the nature of man, treated of in the foregoing 
discourse, which with very little reflection and of 



HUMAN NATURE AS A GUIDE IN MORALS. 



75 



course leads him to society, and by means of which 
he naturally acts a just and good part in it, unless 
other passions or interests lead him astray. Yet since 
other passions, and regards to private interest, which 
lead us (though indirectly, yet they lead us) astray, are 
themselves in a degree equally natural, and often most 
prevalent ; and since we have no method of seeing the 
particular degrees in which one or the other is placed 
in us by nature ; it is plain the former, considered 
merely as natural, good and right as they are, can no 
more be a law to us than the latter. 

15. Conscience makes man a law to himself. — But 
there is a superior principle of reflection or conscience* 
in every man, which distinguishes between the internal 
principles of his heart, as well as his external actions : 
which passes judgment upon himself and them ; pro- 
nounces determinately some actions to be in them- 
selves just, right, good; others to be in themselves evi], 
wrong, unjust : which, without being consulted, with- 
out being advised with, magisterially exerts itself, and 
approves or condemns him the doer of them accord- 
ingly ; and which, if not forcibly stopped, naturally and 
always of course goes on to anticipate a higher and 
more effectual sentence, which shall hereafter second 
and affirm its own. But this part of the office of con- 
science is beyond my present design explicitly to con- 
sider. It is by this faculty, natural to man, that he is 
a moral agent, that he is a law to himself: by this fac- 



* This is the fullest ficcount of the office of conscience finywheve given 
by Butler. As here presented, it embraces a perception of actions and 
principles of action, as according to or not according to right relations, as 
well as the approval or disapproval of them and the actor, in conse- 
iuence. — Ei>. 



76 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



ulty, I say, not to be considered merely as a principle 
in his heart, which is to have some influence as well 
as others ; but considered as a faculty in kind and in 
nature supreme over all others, and which bears its 
own authority of being so. 

PROOFS OF THE SUPREMACY OF CONSCIENCE. 

16. Hence, must be further explained. — Thi^ prerog- 
ative, this natural supremacy, of the faculty which sur- 
veys, approves, or disapproves the several affections of 
our mind and actions of our lives, being that by which 
men are a lata to themselves, their conformity or diso- 
bedience to which lav/ of our nature renders their ac- 
tions, in the highest and most proper sense, natural or 
unnatural ; it is fit it be further explained to you ; and 
T hope it will be so, if you will attend to the following 
reflections. 

17. A rash act unnatural in man. — Man may act 
according to that principle or inclination which for the 
present happens to be strongest, and yet act in a way 
disproportionate to, and violate his real proper nature. 
Suppose a brute creature by any bait to be allured 
into a snare, by which he is destroyed. He plainly fol- 
lowed the bent of his nature, leading him to gratify 
his appetite : there is an entire correspondence between 
his whole nature and such an action : such action 
therefore, is natural. But suppose a man, foreseeing 
the same danger of certain ruin, should rush into it for 
the sake of a present gratification ; he in this instance 
would follow his strongest desire, as did the brute crea- 
ture : but there w^ould be as manifest a disproportion, 
between the nature of a man and such an action, as 



HUMAN NATURE AS A GUIDE IN MORALS. 77 

between the meanest work of art and the skill of the 
greatest master in that art ; which disproportion arises, 
not from considering the action singly in itself^ or in 
its consequences ; but from comparison of it with the 
nature of the agent. And since such an action is ut- 
terly disproportionate to the nature of man, it is in the 
strictest and most proper sense unnatural; this word 
expressing that disproportion. Therefore instead of 
the vN^ords disproportionate to Ms nature^ the word un- 
natural may now be put ; this being more familiar to 
us : but let it be observed, that it stands for the same 
thing precisely. 

18. Because he has higher principles than impulse. — 
Now what is it which renders such a rash action un- 
natural ? Is it that he went against the principle of 
reasonable and cool self-love, considered merely as a 
part of his nature ? No : for if he had acted the con- 
trary way, he would equally have gone against a prin- 
ciple, or part of his nature ; namely, passion or appetite. 
But to deny a present appetite, from foresight that the 
gratification of it would end in immediate ruin or ex- 
treme misery, is by no means an unnatural action : 
whereas to contradict or go against cool self-love for 
the sake of such gratification, is so in the instance be- 
fore us. Such an action, then, being unnatural ; and 
its being so not arising from a man's going against a 
principle or desire barely, nor in going against that 
principle or desire which happens for the present to be 
strongest ; it necessarily follows, that there must be 
some other difference or distinction to be made be- 
tween these two principles, passion and cool self-love, 
than what I have yet taken notice of. And this differ- 
ence, not being a difference in strength or degree, I call 



78 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



a difference in nature and in kind. And since, in the 
instance still before ns, if passion prevails over self- 
love, the consequent action is unnatural ; but if self- 
love prevails over passion, the action is natural : it is 
manifest that self-love is in human nature a superior 
principle to passion. This may be contradicted with- 
out violating that nature ; but the former cannot. So 
that, if we will act comformably to the economy of 
man's nature, reasonable self-love must govern. Thus, 
without particular consideration of conscience, we 
may have a clear conception of the superior nature of 
one inward principle to another; and see that there 
really is this natural superiority, quite distinct from 
degrees of strength and prevalency. 

19. This is obvious from a survey of the nature of man, 
— Let us now take a view of the nature of man, as 
consisting partly of various appetites, passions, affec- 
tions, and partly of the principle of reflection or con- 
science; leaving quite out all consideration of the dif- 
ferent degrees of strength, in which either of them 
prevail, and it will further appear that there is this 
natural superiority of one inward principle to another, 
and that it is even part of the idea of reflection or 
conscience. 

Passion or appetite implies a direct simple tendency 
towards such and such objects, without distinction 
of the means by which they are to be obtained. Con- 
sequently it will often happen there will be a de- 
sire of particular objects, in cases where they cannot 
be obtained v/ithout manifest injury to others. Reflec- 
tion or conscience comes in, and disapproves the 
pursuit of them in these circumstances ; but the desire 
remains. Which is to be obeyed, appetite or reflec- 



HUMAN NATURE AS A GUIDE IN MORALS. 



79 



tion ? Cannot this question be answered, from the 
economy and constitution of human nature merely, 
without saying which is strongest ? Or need this at 
all come into consideration ? Would not the question 
be intelligibly and fully answered by saying, that the 
principle of reflection or conscience being compared 
with the various appetites, passions and affections in 
men, the former is manifestly superior and chief,* 
without regard to strength ? And how often soever 
the latter happens to prevail, it is mere usurpation : 
the former remains in nature and in kind its superior ; 
and every instance of such prevalence of the latter is 
an instance of breaking in upon, and violation of, the 
constitution of man. 

20. Conscience the superior principle. — All this is 
no more than the distinction, which everybody is 
acquainted with, between mere poicer and authority ; 
only instead of being intended to express the differ- 
ence between what is possible, and what is lawful in 
civil government; here it has been shown applicable 
to the several principles in the mind of man. Thus 
that principle, by which we survey, and either approve 
or disapprove our own heart, temper, and actions, is 
not only to be considered as what is in its turn to have 
some influence ; V\^hich may be said of every passion, 
of the lowest appetites ; but likewise as being supe- 

* Conscience , is the highest principle in human natui'e, because it is 
the highest function of reason, deciding on conduct in view of all the 
facts in the case, and sustained by the most urgent practical feelings. 
Following lower principles, therefore, is wrong, just as disregarding other 
right relations in our conduct is wrong. All wrong is disapproved by 
conscience, but with the exception of intemperate self-indulgence and 
selfishness, is no otherwise a violation of our nature, than as it is a viola- 
tion or disregard of the decisions of conscience. — Ed. 



80 



MOEAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



rior ; as from its very nature manifestly claiming 
superiority over all others : insomuch that you cannot 
form a notion of this faculty, conscience, without 
taking in judgment, direction, superintendency. This 
is a constituent part of the idea, that is, of the faculty 
itself; and, to preside and govern, from the very 
economy and constitution of man, belongs to it. Had 
it strength, as it has right ; had it power, as it has 
manifest authority, it would absolutely govern the 
Y\^orld. 

21. Hence the regulative principle. — This gives us 
a further view of the nature of man ; shows us Vv^hat 
course of life we were made for : not only that our 
real nature leads us to be influenced in some degree by 
reflection and conscience ; but likewise in what degree 
we are to be influenced by it, if we will fall in with, 
and act agreeably to the constitution of our nature : 
that this faculty was placed v/ithin to be our proper 
governor ; to direct and regulate all under principles, 
passions, and motives of action. This is its right and 
office ; thus sacred is its authority. And how often 
soever men violate and rebelliously refuse to submit to 
it, for supposed interest which they cannot otherwise 
obtain, or for the sake of passion which they cannot 
otherwise gratif}^ ; this makes no alteration as to the 
natural right and office of conscience. 

22. The same shoivn from the absurdity of the con- 
trary. — Let us now turn this whole matter another 
way, and suppose there was no such thing at all as 
this natural supremacy of conscience ; that there was 
no distinction to be made between one inward prin- 
ciple and another, but only that of strength; and see 
vv^hat would be the consequence. 



HUMAN NATURE AS A GUIDE IN MORALS. 



81 



23. The case stated. — Consider then what is the 
latitude and compass of the actions of man with regard 
to himself, his fellow-creatures, and the Supreme Be- 
ing? What are their bounds, besides that of our 
natural power ? With respect to the two first, they 
are plainly no other than these : no man seeks misery 
as such for himself; and no one unprovoked does mis- 
chief to another for its own sake. For in every 
degi'ee within these bounds, mankind knovringly from 
passion or wantonness bring ruin and misery upon 
themselves and others. And impiety and profanencss, 
I mean, Avhat every one would call so who believes the 
being of God, have absolutely no bounds at all. Men 
blaspheme the Author of nature, formally and in words 
renounce their allegiance to their Creator. 

24. Illustrated. — Put an instance then with respect 
to any one of these three. Though we should suppose 
profane swearing, and in general that kind of impiety 
now mentioned, to mean nothing, yet it implies wan- 
ton disregard and irreverence towards an infinite Being, 
our Creator ; and is this as suitable to the nature of 
man, as reverence and dutiful submission of heart 
towards that Almighty Being ? Or suppose a man 
guilty of parricide, w^ith all the circumstances of cru- 
elty which such an action can admit of. This action 
is done in consequence of its principle being for the 
present strongest; and if there be no difference be- 
tween inward principles, but only that of strength ; the 
strength being given, you have the Vv'hole nature of the 
man given, so far as it relates to this matter. The 
action plainly corresponds to the prijiciple, the princi- 
ple being in that degree of strength it was : it therefore 
corresponds to the whole nature of the man. Upon 



82 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



comparing the action and the whole nature, there 
arises no disproportion, there appears no nnsuitableness 
between them. Thus the murder of a father and the 
nature of man correspond to each other, as the same 
nature and an act of filial duty. If there be no differ- 
ence between inward principles, but only that of 
strength ; we can make no distinction between these 
two actions, considered as the actions of such a crea- 
ture ; but in our coolest hours must approve or disap- 
prove them equally: than which nothing can be re- 
duced to a greater absurdity. 



SECTIOJT III. 
OBLIGATIOX TO OBEY CONSCrENCE* 

1. Meaning of nature as a ride of conduct. — The 
natural supremacy of reflection or conscience being 
thus established ; we may from it form a distinct no- 
tion of what is meant by human natu7'e,\Yh.en Adrtue is 
said to consist in following it, and vice in deviating 
from it. 

As the idea of a civil constitution implies in it 
united strength, various subordinations, under one di- 
rection, that of the supreme authority ; the different 
strength of each particular member of the society not 
coming into the idea ; v/hereas, if you leave out the 
subordination, the union, and the one direction, you 
destroy and lose it : so reason, several appetites, pas- 
sions, and affections, prevailing in different degrees of 
strength, is not that idea or notion of human nature ; 



Third sermon at the Pvoils. 



OBLIGATION TO OBEY CONSCIENCE. 



83 



but that nature consists in these several principles con- 
sidered as having a natural respect to each other, in the 
several passions being naturally subordinate to the one 
superior principle of reflection or conscience. E very- 
bias, instinct, propension within, is a real part of our 
nature, but not the whole : add to these the superior 
faculty, whose office it is to adjust, manage, and pre- 
side over them, and take in this its natural superiority, 
and you complete the idea of human nature. And as 
in civil government the constitution is broken in upon, 
and violated by power and strength prevailing over au- 
thority ; so the constitution of man is broken in upon 
and violated by the lower faculties or principles within 
prevailing over that which is in its nature supreme 
over them all. 

2. Used in this sense by ancient moralists. — Thus, 
when it is said by ancient writers,* that tortures and 
death are not so contrary to human nature as injustice; 
by this to be sure is not meant, that the aversion to the 
former in mankind is less strong and prevalent than 
theii; aversion to the latter : but that the former is only 
contrary to our nature considered in a partial view, and 
which takes in only the lowest part of it, that which 
we have in common with the brutes; whereas the lat- 
ter is contrary to our nature, considered in a higher 
sense, as a system and constitution, contrary to the 
whole economy of man.f 

* The reference is to the Stoics. See their doctrine on tliis point as 
given by Cicero (Officiis iii. 5.). — Ed. 

t Every man in his physical nature is one individual single agent. He 
has likewise properties and principles, each of which may be considered 
separately, and without regard to the respects which they have to each 
other. Neither of these arc the nature we are taking a view of. But it 
is the inward frame of man considered as a system or constitution ; whose 



84 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



3. Man hy constitution a laiu to hhnself, — And from 
all these things put together nothing can be more evi- 
dent, than that, exclusive of revelation, man cannot be 
considered as a creature left by his Maker to act at 
random, and live at large up to the extent of his natu- 
ral power, as passion, humor, wilfulness, happen to 
carry him ; which is the condition brute creatures are 
in : but that from his make, constitution, or nature, he 

several parts are united, not by a physical principle of individuation, but^ 
by the respects they have to each other ; the chief of which is, the sub-1 
jection which the appetites, passions, and particular affections have to thd 
one supreme principle of reflection or conscience. The system or con-| 
stitution is formed by and consists in these respects and this subjection. I 
Thus the body is a system or constitution : so is a tree : so is every! 
machine. Consider all the several parts of a tree without the natural re- ' 
spects they have to each other, and you have not at all the idea of a tree ; 
but add these respects, and this gives you the idea. The body may be 
impaired by sickness, a tree may decay, a machine be out of order,, and 
yet the system and constitution of them not totally dissolved. There is 
plainly somewhat which answers to all this in the moral constitution of 
man. AVhoever will consider his own nature, will see that the several 
appetites, passions, and particular affections, have different respects 
amongst themselves. They are restraints upon, and are in a proportion 
to, each other. 

This proportion is just and perfect, when all those under principles 
are perfectly coincident with conscience, so far as their nature permits, 
and in all cases under its absolute and entire direction. The least excess 
or defect, the least alteration of the due proportions amongst themselves, 
or of their coincidence with conscience, though not proceeding into action, 
is some degree of disorder in the moral constitution. But perfection, 
though plainly intelligible and supposable, was never attained by any 
man. If the higher principle of reflection maintains its place, and as 
much as it can corrects that disorder, and hinders it from breaking out 
into action, this is all that can be expected in such a creature as man. 
And though the appetites and passions have not their exact due propor- 
tion to each other; though they often strive for mastery with judgment 
or reflection : yet, since the superiority of this principle to all others is 
the cliief respect which forms the constitution, so far as this superiority is 
maintained, the character, the man, is good, worthy, virtuous. 




OBLIGATIOJN TO OBEY CONSCIENCE. 



85 



is in the strictest and most proper sense a law to himself. 
He hath the rule of right within : what is wanting is 
only that he honestly attend to it. 

4. The law easily applied. — The inquiries which 
have been made by men of leisure, after some general 
rule, the conformity to, or disagreement from, which, 
should denominate our actions good or evil, are in 
many respects of great service. Yet let any plain, 
honest man, before he engages in any course of action, 
ask himself. Is this I am going about right, or is it 
wrong ? Is it good, or is it evil ? I do not in the least 
doubt, but that this question would be answered 
agreeably to truth and virtue, by almost any fair man 
in almost any circumstance. Neither do there appear 
any cases which look like exceptions to this : but those 
of superstition, and of partiality to ourselves.* Super- 
stition may perhaps be somewhat of an exception : but 
partiality to ourselves is not ; this being itself dishon- 
esty. For a man to judge that to be the equitable, 
the moderate, the right part for him to act, which he 
would see to be hard, unjust, oppressive in another; 
this is plain vice, and can proceed only from great un- 
fairness of mind. 

5. The law involves an obligation to obey it. — But 
allowing that mankind hath the rule of right within 
himself, yet it may be asked, " What obligations are 
we under to attend to and follow it ? " I answer : it 
has been proved that man by his nature is a law to 
himself, without the particular distinct consideration 

=^ If a right doeision in regard to conduct depends upon a right view 
of things, we should expect men to vary in their moral judgments ac- 
cording to their knowledge and love of the truth, i.e., of things as they 
really are. — Ed, 

8 



86 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



of the positive sanctions of that law ; the rewards and 
punishments which we feel, and those which from the 
light of reason we have ground to believe are annexed 
to it. The question then carries its own answer along 
with it. Your obligation to obey this law, is its being 
the law of your nature. That your conscience ap- 
proves of and attests to such a course of action, is 
itself alone an obligation. Conscience does not only 
offer itself to show us the way we should walk in, but 
it likewise carries its own authority with it, that it' is 
our natural guide ;* the guide assigned us by the 
Author of our nature : it therefore belongs to our con- 
dition of being, it is our duty to walk in that path, and 
follow this guide, without looking about to see whether 
we may not possibly forsake them with impunity. 

OBJECTIONS TO OBEYING CONSCIENCE. 

6. But why regard others in our conduct ? — How- 
ever, let us hear what is to be said against obeying this 
law of our nature. And the sum is no more tlian this : 
" Why should we be concerned about anything out of 
and beyond ourselves ? If we do find within ourselves 
regards to others, and restraints of we know not how 
many different kinds ; yet these being embarrassments, 
and hindering us from going the nearest way to our 
own good, why should we not endeavor to suppress 
and get over them ? " 

7. Because necessary to our happiness. — Thus peo- 
ple go on with words, which, when applied to human 
• « ■ 

* Conscience is our natural guide only because it is the strongest light 
in our nature. It obligates us to the right by the cogency of its reasons 
and the urgency of its feelings. — Ed. 



OBLIGATION TO OBEY CONSCIENCE. 



87 



nature, and the condition in which it is placed m this 
world, have really no meaning. For does not all this 
kind of talk go upon supposition, that our happiness 
in this world consists in somewhat quite distinct from 
regard to others ; and that it is the privilege of vice to 
be without restraint or confinement ? Whereas, on 
the contrary, the enjoyments, in a manner all the com- 
mon enjoyments of life, even the pleasures of vice, de- 
pend upon these regards of one Idnd or another to our 
fellow-creatures. Throw off all regards to others, and 
we should be quite indifferent to infamy and to honor ; 
there could be no such thing at all as ambition ; and 
scarce any such thing as covetousness ; for we should 
likewise be equally indifferent to the disgrace of pov- 
erty, the several neglects and kinds of contempt which 
accompany this state ; and to the reputation of riches, 
the regard and respect they usually procure. Neither 
is restraint by any means peculiar to one course of life : 
but our very nature, exclusive of conscience and our 
condition, lays us under an absolute necessity of it. 
We cannot gain any end whatever without being con- 
fined to the proper means, which is often the most 
painful and uneasy confinement. And in numberless 
instances a present appetite cannot be gratified without 
such apparent and immediate ruin and misery, that the 
most dissolute man in the world chooses to forego the 
pleasure, rather than endure the pain. 

8. Virtue the true way to happiness. — Is the mean- 
ing then, to indulge those regards to our fellow-crea- 
tures, and submit to those restraints, which upon 
the whole are attended with more satisfaction than 
uneasiness, and get over only those which bring 
more uneasiness and inconvenience than satisfaction ? 



88 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



" Doubtless this was our meaning." You have changed 
sides then. Keep to this ; be consistent with your- 
selves ; and you and the men of virtue are in general 
perfectly agreed. But let us take care and avoid mis- 
takes. Let it not be taken for granted that the temper 
of envy, rage, resentment, yields greater delight than 
meekness, forgiveness, compassion, and good- will: 
especially when it is acknowledged that rage, envy, re- 
sentment, are in themselves mere misery ; and the 
satisfaction arising from the indulgence of them is 
little more than relief from that misery ; whereas the 
temper of compassion and benevolence is itself delight- 
ful ; and the indulgence of it, by doing good, affords 
new positive delight and enjoyment. Let it not be 
taken for granted, that the satisfaction arising from the 
reputation of riches and power, however obtained, and 
from the respect paid to them, is greater than the satis- 
faction arising from the reputation of justice, honesty, 
charity, and the esteem which is universally acknowl- 
edged to be their due. And if it be doubtful which 
of these satisfactions is the greatest, as there are per- 
sons who think neither of them very considerable, yet 
there can be no doubt concerning ambition and covet- 
ousness, virtue and a good mind, considered in them- 
selves, and as leading to different courses of life ; there 
can, I say, be no doubt which temper and which course 
is attended with most peace and tranquillity of mind, 
which with most perplexity, vexation, and inconven- 
ience. And both the virtues and vices which have 
been now mentioned, do in a manner equally imply in 
them regards of one kind or another to our fellow- 
creatures. 

9. Nor does virtue have any disadvantage as to re- 



OBLIGATION TO OBEY CONSCIENCE. 



89 



straint. — And with respect to restraint and confine- 
ment : whoever will consider the restraints from fear 
and shame, the dissimulation, mean arts of conceal- 
ment, servile compliances, one or other of which belong 
to almost every course of vice, will soon be convinced 
that the man of virtue is by no means upon a disad- 
vantage in this respect. How many instances are there 
in which men feel and own and cry aloud under the 
chains of vice with which they are enthralled, and 
which yet they will not shake off ! How many in- 
stances, in which persons manifestly go through more 
pains and self-denial to gratify a vicious passion, than 
would have been necessary to the conquest of it ! To 
this is to be added, that when virtue has become habit- 
ual, when the temper of it is acquired, what was before 
confinement ceases to be so, by becoming choice and 
delight. Whatever restraint and guard upon ourselves 
may be needful to unlearn any unnatural distortion or 
odd gesture ; yet, in all propriety of speech, natural 
behavior must be the most easy and unrestrained. 

10. Self-love consistent luith duty. — It is manifest 
that, in the common course of life, there is seldom any 
inconsistency between our duty and what is called in- 
terest : it is much seldomer that there is an inconsist- 
ency between duty and what is really our present in- 
terest ; meaning by interest, happiness and satisfaction. 
Self-love then, though confined to the interest of the 
present world, does in general perfectly coincide with 
virtue; and leads us to one and the same course of life. 
But, whatever exceptions there are to this, which are 
much fewer than they are commonly thought, all shall 
be set right at the final distribution of things. It is a 
manifest absurdity to suppose evil prevailing finally 

8*- 



90 



MOEAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



over good, under the conduct and administration of a 
perfect Mind. 

11. Recapitulation. — The whole argument, which I 
have been now insisting upon, may be thus summed 
up and given you in one view. The nature of man is 
adapted to some course of action or other. Upon 
comparing some actions with this nature, they appear 
suitable and correspondent to it : from comparison of 
other actions with the same nature, there arises to our 
view some unsuitableness or disproportion. The cor- 
respondence of actions to the nature of the agent ren- 
ders them natural : their disproportion to it^ unnatural. 
That an action is correspondent to the nature of the 
agent, does not arise from its being agreeable to the 
principle which happens to be the strongest: for it may 
be so, and yet be quite disproportionate to the nature 
of the agent. The correspondence therefore, or dispro- 
portion, arises from somewhat else. This can be noth- 
ing but a difference in nature and kind, altogether dis- 
tinct from strength, between the inward principles. 
Some, then, are in nature and kind superior to others. 
And the correspondence arises from the action being 
conformable to the higher principle ; and the unsuit- 
ableness from its being contrary to it. Reasonable 
self-love and conscience are the chief or superior prin- 
ciples in the nature of man : because an action may 
be suitable to this nature, though all other principles 
be violated ; but becomes unsuitable, if either of those 
are. Conscience and self-love, if we understand our 
true happiness, always lead us the same way. Duty 
and interest are perfectly coincident : for the most part 
in this world, but entirely and in every instance if we 
take in the future, and the whole ; this being implied 



SELF-LOVE AND PARTICULAR AFFECTIOxVS. 



91 



in the notion of a good and perfect administration of 
things. Thus they who have been so wise in their 
generation as to regard only their own supposed inter- 
est, at the expense and to the injury of others, shall at 
last find, that he who has given up all the advantages 
of the present world, rather than violate his conscience 
and the relations of life,* has infinitely better provided 
for himself, and secured his own interest and happiness. 



SECTION IT. 

SELF-LOVE AND PAETICTJLAR AFFECTIONS, ESPECL4LLY BEXEYOLEXCE.t 

1. WJiether self-love may not contradict private good. 

— It is commonly observed, that there is a disposition 
in men to complain of the viciousness and corruption 
of the age in which they live, as greater than that of 
former ones ; which is usually followed with this fm*- 
ther observation, that manldnd has been in that respect 
mLich the same in all times. Now, not to determine 
whether this last be not contradicted by the accounts 
of history ; thus much can scarce be doubted, that vice 
and folly takes different tm-ns, and some particular 
kinds of it are more open and avowed in some ages 
than in others : and, I suppose, it may be spoken of as 
very much the distinction of the present to profess a 
contracted spirit, and greater regards to self-interest, 

* We see from this passage, as also from many others, that while the 
grand aim of Butler was, to show that virtue and interest are consistent 
with each other, he made virtue the guide to interest, and not the reverse. 

— Ed. 

t The eleventh Sermon at the Eolls ; preached from the text, — "And 
if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this say- 
ing, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. — Komaxs, 13 : 9 



92 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



than appears to have been done formerly. Upon this 
account it seems worth while to inquire, whether pri- 
vate interest is likely to be promoted in proportion to 
the degree in which self-love engrosses us, and prevails 
over all other principles ; or ivhether the contracted af- 
fection may not possibly be so prevalent as to disappoitit 
itself and even contradict its oicn end — private good. 

2. Whether benevolence be specially opposed to self- 
love. — And since, further, there is generally thought to 
be some peculiar kind of contrariety bet^veen self- 
love and the love of our neighbor, bet^veen the pm*suit 
of public and of private good ; insomuch that when 
you are recommending one of these, you are supposed 
to be speaking against the other; and from hence 
arises a secret prejudice against, and frequently open 
scorn of all talk of public spirit, and real good-will to 
our fellov/ creatures ; it will be necessary to inquire 
ivhat respect benevolence hath to self-love^ and the pur- 
suit of private interest to the pursuit of public: or 
whether there be any thing of that peculiar inconsist- 
ence and contrariety between them, over and above 
what there is between self-love and other passions and 
particular affectians, and their respective pursuits. 

These inquiries, it is hoped, may be favorably at- 
tended to : for there shall be all. possible concessions 
made to the favorite passion, w4iich hath so much 
allowed to it, and whose cause is so universally 
pleaded : it shall be treated with the utmost tenderness 
and concern for its interests. 

3. The nature of self-love and affection to be consid- 
ered. — In order to this, as well as to determine the 
fore-mentioned questions, it will be necessar}" to con- 
sider the nature., the object., and end cf that self-love.^ as 



SELF-LOVE AND PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS. 93 



distinguished from other principles or affections in the 
mind, and their respective objects, 

4. General difference between them. — Every man 
hath a general desire of his own happiness ; and like- 
wise a variety of particular affections, passions, and 
appetites * to particular external objects. The former 
proceeds from, or is self-love ; and seems inseparable 
from all sensible creatures, who can reflect upon them- 
selves and their own interest or happiness, so as to 
have that interest an object to their minds : what is to 
be said of the latter is, that they proceed from, or to- 
gether make up that particular nature, according to 
which man is made. The object the former pursues is 
somewhat internal, our own happiness, enjoyment, sat- 
isfaction ; whether we have, or have not, a distinct par- 
ticular perception what it is, or wherein it consists : 
the objects, of the latter are this or that particular ex- 
ternal thing, which the affections tend towards, and of 
which it hath always a particular idea or perception. 
The principle we call self-love never seeks any thing 
external for the sake of the thing, but only as a means 
of happiness or good : particular affections rest in the 
external things themselves. One belongs to man as a 
reasonable creature reflecting upon his own interest or 
happiness. The other, though quite distinct from rea- 
son, are as much a part of human nature. 

* The impulsive principles of our nature are : 1st. Appetites, as hun- 
ger and thirst ; 2(3. Affections or Passions (regarded alike as agitations or 
movements of our sensitive nature, though passion has the wider meaning, 
and often denotes something excessive in the affection), as anger, compas- 
sion, and the various forms of love ; 3d, Desires, i.e., wants, cravings, as 
ih.Q desire of property , \hQ desire of society, ate. But as a^^petites and af- 
fections may also be considered as wants, these, too, are often included 
under the general term, desire. — Ed. 



94: 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



5. Affections tend to objects themselves. — That all 
particular appetites and passions are towards external 
things themselves^ distinct from the pleasure arising 
from them., is manifested from hence ; that there could 
not be this pleasure, were it not for that prior suitable- 
ness between the object and the passion : there could 
be no enjoyment or delight from one thing more than 
another, from eating food more than from swallovvdng 
a stone, if there were not an affection or appetite to 
one thing more than another. 

6. Are affections self-love because they belong to 
self? — Every particular affection, even the love of our 
neighbor, is as really our own affection, as self-love ; 
and the pleasure arising from its gratification is 
as much my own pleasure, as the pleasure self-love 
would have, from knowing I myself should be happy 
some time hence, would be my own pleasure. And if, 
because every particular affection is a man's own, and 
the pleasure arising from its gratification his own pleas- 
sure, or pleasure to himself, such particular affection 
must be called self-love ; according to this way of 
speaking, no creature whatever can possibly act but 
merely from self-love ; and every action and every 
affection whatever is to be resolved up into tliis one 
principle. 

7. This ivould confound principles of action. — But 
then this is not the language of mankind : or if it 
were, we should want words to express the difference 
between the principle of an action, proceeding from 
cool consideration that it will be to my own advan- 
tage ; and an action, suppose of revenge, or of friend- 
ship, by which a man runs upon certain ruin, to do 
evil or good to another. It is manifest the principles 



SELF-LOVE AND PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS. 95 

of these actions are totally different, and so want dif- 
ferent words to be distinguished by: all that they 
agree in is, that they both proceed from, and are done 
to gratify an inclination in a man's self. But the prin- 
ciple or inclination in one case is self-love ; in the 
other, hatred or love of another. There is then a dis- 
tinction between the cool principle of self-love, or 
general desire of our own happiness, as one part of our 
nature, and one principle of action ; and the particular 
affections towards particular external objects, as another 
part of our nature, and another principle of action. 
How much soever therefore is to be allowed to self- 
love, yet it cannot be allowed to be the whole of our 
inward constitution ; because, you see, there are other 
parts or principles which come into it. 

8. Self-love produces interested^ affection passionate 
action. — Further, private happiness or good is all 
which self-love can make us desire, or be concerned 
about : in having this consists its gratification : it is an 
affection to ourselves ; a regard to our own interest, hap- 
piness, and private good: and in the proportion a iTian 
hath this, he is interested, or a lover of himself. Let 
this be kept in mind ; because there is commonly, as I 
shall presently have occasion to observe, another sense 
put upon these words. On the other hand, particular 
affections tend towards particular external things : these 
are their objects ; having these is their end : in this 
consists their gratification : no matter whether it be, or 
be not, upon the whole, our interest or happiness. An 
action done from the former of these principles is 
called an interested action. An action proceeding 
from any of the latter has its denomination of pas- 
sionate, ambitious, friendly, revengeful, or any other, 



96 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OP MAN. 



from the particular appetite or affection from which it 
proceeds. Thus self-love as one part of human nature, 
and the several particular principles as the other part, 
are, themselves, their objects and ends, stated and 
shown. 

THEIR RESPECTS TO PRIVATE GOOD. 

9. Happiness does not consist in self-love, hut in the 
gratification of particular affections. ■ — From hence it 
will be easy to see, how far, and in what ways, each 
of these can contribute and be subservient to the 
private good of the individual. Happiness does not 
consist in self-love. The desire of happiness is no 
more, the thing itself, than the desire of riches is the 
possession or enjoyment of them. People may love 
themselves with the most entire and unbounded affec- 
tion, and yet be extremely miserable. Neither can 
self-love any way help them out, but by setting them 
on work to get rid of the causes of their misery, to 
gain or make use of those objects which are by nature 
adapted to afford satisfaction. Happiness or satisfac- 
tion consists only in the enjoyment of those objects, 
which are by nature suited to our several particular 
appetites, passions, and affections. So that if self-love 
wholly engrosses us, and leaves no room for any other 
principle, there can be absolutely no such thing at all 
as happiness, or enjoyment of any kind whatever; 
since happiness consists in the gratification of particu- 
lar passions, which supposes the having of them. 

10. Hence self-love may fail to promote private good. 
— Self-love then does not constitute this or that to be 
our interest or good ; but our interest or good being 



SELF-LOVE AND PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS. 97 



constituted by nature and supposed, self-love only puts 
us upon obtaining and securing it. Therefore, if it be 
possible, that self-love may prevail and exert itself in a 
degree or manner v/hich is not subservient to this end ; 
then it will not follow, that our interest will be pro- 
moted in proportion to the degree in v/hich that prin- 
ciple engrosses us, and prevails over others. 

11. Nay^ may prevent it. — Nay, further, the private 
and contracted affection, when it is not subservient to 
this end. private good, may, for any thing that appears, 
have a direct contrary tendency and effect. And if we 
will consider the matter, we shall see that it often 
really has. Disengagement is absolutely necessary to 
enjoyment : and a person may have so steady and 
fixed an eye upon his own interest, whatever he places 
it in, as may hinder him from attending to many grati- 
fications within his reach, which others have their 
minds free and open to. Over-fondness for a child is 
not generally thought to be for its advantage : and, if 
there be any guess to be made from appearances, 
surely, that character we call selfish is not the most 
promising for happiness. Such a temper may plainly 
be, and exert itself in a degree and manner which may 
give unnecessary and useless solicitude and anxiety, in 
a degree and manner which may prevent obtaining the 
means and materials of enjoyment, as well as the mak- 
ing use of them. 

12. May even produce misery. — Immoderate self- 
love does very ill consult its own interest: and, how 
much soever a paradox it may appear, it is certainly 
true, that even from self-love we should endeavor to 
get over all inordinate regard to, and consideration of, 
ourselves. Every one of our passions and affections 



98 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OP MAN. 



hath its natural stint and bound, which may easily be 
exceeded; whereas our enjoyments can possibly be 
but in a determinate measure and degree. Therefore 
such excess of the affection, since it cannot procure 
any enjoyment, must in all cases be useless ; but is 
generally attended with inconveniences, and often is 
downright pain and misery. This holds as much with 
regard to selfdove as to all other affections. The 
natural degree of it, so far as it sets us on \YOik to gain 
and make use of the materials of satisfaction, may be 
to our real advantage; but beyond or besides this, it is 
in several respects an inconvenience and disadvantage. 
Thus it appears, that private interest is so far from 
being likely to be promoted in proportion to the de- 
gree in which self-love engrosses us, and prevails over 
all other principles ; that the contracted affection may 
he so prevalent as to disappoint itself, and even contra- 
dict its own end, private good. 



SELF-LOVE AND BENEVOLENCE. 



13. Are tJiey specially opposed ? — " But who, except 
the most sordidly covetous, ever thought there was any 
rivalship between the love of greatness, honor, power, 
or between sensual appetites, and self-love ? No, there 
is a perfect harmony between them. It is by means 
of these particular appetites and affections that self- 
love is gratified in enjoyment, happiness, and satisfac- 
tion. The competition and rivalship is between self- 
love and the love of our neighbor : that affection 
which leads us out of ourselves, makes us regardless 
of our own interest, and substitutes that of another in 



SELF-LOVE AXD PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS. 99 



its stead." Whether then there be any peculiar com- 
petition and contrariety in this case, shall now be con- 
sidered. 

14. Benevolence distinct from^ hut not opposed to, 
self-love. — Self-love and interestedness was stated to 
consist in or be an affection to ourselves^ a regard to 
our own private good : it is therefore distinct from be- 
nevolence, which is an affection to the good of om* 
fellow-creatures. But that benevolence is distinct 
from, that is, not the same thing with self-love, is no 
reason for its being looked upon with any peculiar sus- 
picion ; because every principle vvhatever, by means 
of which self-love is gratified, is distinct from it : and 
all things which are distinct from each other are equally 
so. A man has an affection or aversion to another : 
that one of these tends to, and is gratified by doing 
good, that the other tends to, and is gratified by doing 
harm, does not in the least alter the respect which 
either one or the other of these inward feelings has to 
self-love. 

15. They do not exclude each other. — We use the 
word property so as to exclude any other persons hav- 
ing an interest in that of which v»^e say a particular 
man has the property. And we often use the word 
selfish so as to exclude in the same manner all regards 
to the good of others. But the cases are not parallel : 
for though that exclusion is really part of the idea of 
property ; yet such positive exclusion, or bringing this 
peculiar disregard * to the good of others into the idea 

*A positive disregard of the happiness of others in seeking our • 
own, is what is coinnionly called selfishness, thougli the distinction does 
not always seem to have been made by Butler. Wlicn self-love em- 
braces this additional element, it ceases to be simply a love of self, and 
becomes a wrong principle. — Ed. 



100 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



of self-love, is in reality adding to the idea, or changing 
it from what it was before stated to consist in, namely, 
in an affection to om'selves. * This being the whole 
idea of self-love, it can no otherwise exclude good-will 
or love of others, than merely by not including it, no 
otherwise, than it excludes love of arts or reputation, or 
of any thmg else. Neither on the other hand does be- 
nevolence, any more than love of arts or of reputation, 
exclude self-love. Love of our neighbor then has just 
the same respect to, is no more distant from, self-love, 
than hatred of our neighbor, or than love or hatred of 
any thing else. 

16. Any affection may he considered interested or 
disinterested. — Tlius the principles, from which men 
rush upon certain ruin for the destruction of an enemy, 
and for the preservation of a friend, have the same re- 
spect to the private affection, and are equally interested, 
or equally disinterested : and it is of no avail, whether 
they are said to be one or the other. Therefore to 
those who are shocked to hear virtue spoken of as dis- 
interested, it may be allowed that it is indeed absurd 
to speak thus of it; unless hatred, several particular 
instances of vice, and all the common affections and 
aversions in mankind, are acknowledged to be disin- 
terested too. 

17. And hence hear the savie relation to self-love as 
benevolence does. — Is there any less inconsistency, be- 
tween the love of inanimate things, or of creatures 
merely sensitive, and self-love ; than between self-love 
and the love of our neighbor? Is desire of and delight 
in the happiness of another any more a diminution of 
self-love, than desire of and delight in the esteem of 



* See No. 8. 



SELF-LOVE AND PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS. 101 

another ? They are both equally desire of and delight 
in somewhat external to ourselves : either both or neither 
are so. The object of self-love is expressed in the term 
self: and every appetite of sense, and every particular 
affection of the heart, are equally interested or disin- 
terested, because the objects of them all are equally 
self or somewhat else. Whatever ridicule therefore 
the mention of a disinterested principle or action may 
be supposed to lie open to, must, upon the matter be- 
ing thus stated, relate to ambition, and every appetite 
and particular afiection, as much as to benevolence. 

18. The luhole perplexity in the case is merely verbal. 
— And indeed all the ridicule, and all the grave per- 
plexity, of which this subject hath had its full share, is 
merely from words. The most intelligible way of speak- 
ing of it seems to be this : that self-love and the actions 
done in consequence of it (for these will preseiiilly np- 
pear to be the same as to this question) are interested ; 
that particular affections towards external objects, and 
the actions done in consequence of those affections, 
are not so. But every one is at liberty to use words as 
he pleases. All that is here insisted upon is, that am- 
bition, revenge, benevolence, all particular passions 
whatever, and the actions they produce, are equally 
interested or disinterested. 

PURSUIT OF PUBLIC AND PRIVATE GOOD. 

19. Is there any special contrariety betiveen them ? — 
Thus it appears that there is no peculiar contrariety 
between self-love and benevolence ; no greater compe- 
tition between these than between any other particular 
affections and self-love. This relates to the affections 
themselves. Let us now see whether there be any 



102 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



peculiar contrariety between the respective courses 
of life which these affections lead to ; whether there 
be any greater competition between the pursuit of 
private and of public good, than between any other 
particular pursuits and that of private good. 

20. That an affection carries us to do good to others 
does not prevent its tending to our oivn good also. — 
There seems no other reason to suspect that there is 
any such peculiar contrariety, but only that the course 
of action which benevolence leads to, has a more di- 
rect tendency to promote the good of others, than that 
course of action which love of reputation, suppose, or 
any other particular affection leads to. But that any 
affection tends to the happiness of another, does not 
hinder its tending to one's own happiness too. That 
others enjoy the benefit of the air and the light of the 
sun, does not hinder but that these are as much one's 
own private advantage now, as they would be if we 
had the property of them exclusive of all others. So 
a pursuit which tends to promote the good of another,, 
yet may have as great tendency to promote private in- 
terest, as a pursuit which does not tend to the good 
of another at all, or which is mischievous to him. 

21. The particidar end of a pursuit does not alter its 
relation to private good. — All particular affections 
whatever, resentment, benevolence, love of arts, equally 
lead to a course of action for their own gratification, 
i.e., the gratification of ourselves ; and the gratification 
of each gives delight : so far then it is manifest they 
have all the same respect to private interest. Now 
take into consideration further, concerning these three 
pursuits, that the end of the first is the harm, of the 
second, the good of another, of the last, somewhat in- 



SELF-LOVE AND PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS. 103 



different ; and is there any necessity, that these addi- 
tional considerations should alter the respect, which we 
before saw these three pursuits had to private interest ; 
or render any one of them less conducive to it than 
an}'' other ? 

22. Benevolence produces as much happiness as ambi- 
tion^ or any other particular pursuit. — Thus one man's 
affection is to honor as his end ; in order to obtain v/hich 
he thinks no pains too. great. Suppose another, with 
such a singularity of mind, as to have the same affec- 
tion to public good as his end, which he endeavors 
with the same labor to obtain. In case of success, 
surely the man of benevolence hath as great enjoy- 
ment as the man of ambition ; they both equally hav- 
ing the end their affections, in the same degree, tended 
to : but in case of disappointment, the benevolent man 
has clearly the advantage ; since endeavoring to do 
good considered as a virtuous pursuit, is gratified by 
its own consciousness ; ^.e., is in a degree its own 
reward. 

23. And a much happier temper. — And as to these 
two, or benevolence and any other particular passions 
whatever, considered in a further view, as forming a 
general temper, which more or less disposes us for 
enjoyment of all the common blessing of life, distinct 
from their own gratification : is benevolence less the 
temper of tranquillity and freedom than ambition or 
covetousness ? Does the benevolent man appear less 
easy with himself, from his love to his neighbor ? Does 
he less relish his being ? Is there any peculiar gloom 
seated on his face ? Is his mind less open to enter- 
tainment, to any particular gratification ? Nothing is 
more manifest, than that being in good humor, which 



104 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



is benevolence whilst it lasts, is itself the temper of 
satisfaction and enjoyment. 

24. Is something above and additional to the common 
pleasures of life. — Suppose then a man sitting down 
to consider how he might become most easy to him- 
self, and attain the greatest pleasm*e he could ; all that 
which is his real natural happiness. This can only 
consist in the enjoyment of those objects, which are by 
nature adapted to our several faculties. These par- 
ticular enjoyments make up the sum total of our hap- 
piness ; and they are supposed to 'arise from riches, 
honors, and the gratification of sensual appetites : be it 
so : yet none profess themselves so completely happy 
in these enjoyments, but that there is room left in the 
mind for others, if they were presented to them : nay, 
these, as much as they engage us, are not thought so 
high, but that human nature is capable even of greater. 
Now there have been persons in all ages, who have 
professed that they found satisfaction in the exercise 
of charity, in the love of their neighbor, in endeavoring 
to promote the happiness of all they had to do vv^ith, 
and in the pursuit of what is just and right and good, 
as the general bent of their mind, and end of their life ; 
and that doing an action of baseness or cruelty, would 
be as great violence to their self, as much breaking in 
upon their nature, as any external force. 

25. And is attended with the conscious satisfaction 
that it meets the approbation of God. — Persons of this 
character would add, if they might be heard, that they 
consider themselves as acting in the view of an infinite 
Being, who is in a much higher sense the object of 
reverence and of love, than all the world besides ; and 
therefore they could have no more enjoyment from a 



SELF-LOVE AND PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS. 105 



wicked action done under his eye, than the persons to 
whom they are making their apology could, if all man- 
kind were the spectators of it : and that the satisfac- 
tion of approving themselves to his unerring judgment, 
to whom they thus refer all their actions, is a more 
continued settled satisfaction than any this world can 
afford; as also that they have, no less than others, a 
mind free and open to all the common innocent gratifi- 
cations of it, such as they are. 

26. Hence virtue may be the best course of self-love. 
— And if we go no further, does there appear any ab- 
surdity in this ? Will any one take upon him to say, 
that a man cannot find his account in this general 
course of life, as much as in the most unbounded am- 
bition, and the excesses of pleasure ? Or that such a 
person has not consulted so well for himself, for the 
satisfaction and peace of his own mind, as the am- 
bitious or dissolute man ? And though the considera- 
tion, that God himself will in the end justify their 
taste, and support their cause, is not formally to be in- 
sisted upon here; yet thus much comes in, that all 
enjoyments whatever are much more clear and un- 
mixed from the assurance that they will end well. Is 
it certain, then, that there is nothing in these preten- 
sions to happiness ? especially when there are not 
wanting persons, who have supported themselves with 
satisfactions of this kind in sickness, poverty, disgrace, 
and in the very pangs of death ; whereas it is manifest 
all other enjoyments fail in these circumstances. This 
surely looks suspicious of having somewhat in it. 
Self-love methinks should be alarmed. May she not 
possibly pass over greater pleasures, than those she is 
so wholly taken up with ? 



106 MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 

27. Thus boievolence promotes private good. — The 
short of the matter is no more than this. Happiness 
consists in the gratification of certain affections, appe- 
tites, passions, with objects which are by natm'e adapted 
to them. Self-love may indeed set us on work to grat- 
ify these : but happiness or enjoyment has no imme- 
diate connection with self=love, but arises from such 
gratification alone. Love of our neighbor is one of those 
affections. This, considered as a virtuous principle^ is 
gratified by a consciousness of endeavouring to pro- 
mote the good of others ; but considered as a natural 
affection, its gratification consists in the actual accom- 
plishment of this endeavour. Now indulgence or 
gratification of this affection, whether in that con- 
sciousness, or this accomplishment, has the same re- 
spect to interest, as indulgence of any other affection ; 
they equally proceed from, or do not proceed from self- 
love, they equally include or equally exclude this prin- 
ciple. Thus it appears, that benevolence and the pur- 
suit of public good hath at least as great respect to self- 
love and the pursuit of private good, as any other par- 
ticular passions, and their respective pursuits. 

SUPPOSED EXCEPTIONS. 

28. Covetousness forms no exception to the above 
view. — Neither is covetousness, whether as a temper 
or pursuit, any exception to this. For if by covetous- 
ness is meant the desire and pursuit of riches for their 
own sake, without any regard to, or consideration of, 
the uses of them ; this hath as little to do with self- 
love, as benevolence hath. But by this word is usually 
meant, not such madness and total distraction of mind, 



SELF-LOVE AND PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS. 107 



but immoderate afFection to and pursuit of riches as 
possessions, in order to some further end ; namely, sat- 
isfaction, interest, or good. This therefore is not a 
particular affection, or particular pursuit, but it is the 
general principle of self-love, and the general pursuit 
of our own interest ; for which reason the word selfish 
is by every one appropriated to this temper and pur- 
suit. Now as it is ridiculous to assert, that self-love 
and the love of our neighbor are the same ; so neither 
is it asserted, that following these different affections 
hath the same tendency and respect to our own in- 
terest. The comparison is not between self-love and 
the love of our neighbor ; between pursuit of our own 
interest, and the interest of others: but between the 
several particular affections in human nature towards 
external objects, as one part of the comparison; and 
the one particular affection to the good of our neighbor, 
as the other part of it : and it has been shown, that all 
these have the same respect to self-love and private 
interest. 

29. Bestowing property attention^ etc.^ on others really 
interferes less with private interest^ than the course dic- 
tated by other affections. — There is indeed frequently 
an inconsistence or interfering between self-love or pri- 
vate interest, and the several particular appetites, pas- 
sions, affections, or the pursuits they lead to. But this 
competition or interfering is merely accidental ; and 
happens much oftener between pride, revenge, sensual 
gratifications, and private interest, than between pri- 
vate interest and benevolence. For nothing is more 
common, than to see men give themselves up to a pas- 
• sion or an affection to their known prejudice and ruin, 
and in direct contradiction to manifest and real in- 



108 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



terest, and the loudest calls of self-love : whereas the 
seeming competitions and interfering, between benevo- 
lence and private interest, relate much more to the 
materials or means of enjoyment, than to enjoyment 
itself. There is often an interfering in the former, 
when there is none in the latter. Thus as to riches : 
so much money as a man gives away, so much less 
will remain in his possession. Here is a real interfering. 
But though a man cannot possibly give without les- 
sening his fortune, yet there are multitudes might give 
without lessening their own enjoyment ; because they 
may have more than they can turn to any real use or 
advantage to themselves. Thus, the more thought and 
time any one employs about the interests and good 
of others, he must necessarily have less to attend his 
own ; but he may have so ready and large a supply of 
his own wants, that such thought might be really 
useless to himself, though of great service and assist- 
ance to others. 

30. Confusion of happiness and property. — The gen- 
eral mistake, that there is some greater inconsistence 
between endeavoring to promote the good of another 
and self-interest, than between self-interest and pursu- 
ing any thing else, seems, as hath already been hinted, 
to arise from our notions of property ; and to be carried 
on by this property's being supposed to be itself our 
happiness or good. People are so very much taken up 
with this one subject, that they seem from it to have 
formed a general way of thinkhig, which they apply 
to other things that they have nothing to do with. 
Hence, in a confused and slight way, it might well be 
taken for granted, that another's having no interest in * 
an affection (z.e., his good not being the object of it), ren- 



SELF-LOVE AND PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS. 109 



ders, as one may speak, the proprietor's interest in it 
greater; and that if another had an interest in it, this 
would render his less, or occasion that such affection 
could not be so friendly to self-love, or conducive to 
private good, as an affection or pursuit which has not 
a regard to the good of another. This, I say, might 
be taken for granted, whilst it was not attended to, 
that the object of every particular affection is equally 
somewhat external to ourselves ; and whether it be the 
good of another person, whether it be any other exter- 
nal thing, makes no alteration with regard to its being 
one's own affection, and the gratification of it one's 
'own private enjoyment. And so far as it is taken for 
granted, that barely having the means and materials of 
enjoyment is what constitutes interest and happiness ; 
that our interest or good consists in possessions them- 
selves, in having the property of riches, houses, lands, 
gardens, not in the enjoyment of them ; so far it will 
even more strongly be taken for granted, in the way 
already explained, that an affection's conducing to the 
good of another, must even necessarily occasion it to 
conduce less to private good, if not to be positively 
detrimental to it. For, if property and happiness are 
one and the same thing, as by increasing the property 
of another, you lessen your own property, so by pro- 
moting the happiness of another, you must lessen your 
own happiness. 

31. This is an error. — But whatever occasioned the 
mistake, I hope it has been fully proved to be one ; as it 
has been proved, that there is no peculiar rival ship or 
competition between self-love and benevolence : that as 
: there may be a competition between these two, so there 
' may also between any particular affection whatever 

10 



110 



MORAL CONSTITUTION OF MAN. 



and self-love ; that every particular affection, benevo- 
lence among the rest, is subservient to self-love by 
being the instrument of private enjoyment; and that 
in one respect benevolence contributes more to private 
interest, i.e., enjoyment or satisfaction, than any other 
of the particular common affections, as it is in a degree 
its own gratification. 

32. Religion dMes not disallow self-love. — And to all 
these things may be added, that religion, from whence 
arises our strongest obligation to benevolence, is so far 
from disowning the principle of self-love, that it often 
addresses itself to that very principle, and always to 
the mind in that state when reason presides ; and there* 
can no access be had to the understanding, but by con- 
vincing men, that the course of life we would persuade 
them to, is not contrary to their interest. It may be 
allowed, without any prejudice to the cause of virtue 
and religion, that our ideas of happiness and misery 
are of all our ideas the nearest and most important to 
us ; that they will, nay, if you please, that they ought 
to prevail over those of order and beauty and har- 
mony and proportion,* if there should ever be, as it is 
impossible there ever should be, any inconsistence be- 
tween them : though these last too, as expressing the 
fitness of actions, are real as truth itself. Let it be al- 
lowed, though virtue or moral rectitude does indeed 
consist in afiection to and pursuit of what is right and 



That is, tliat which constitutes right as being founded in the nature 
of things. What seems to be right we always believe to be good, and 
could not be reconciled to it if we did not. But our notions of right are 
not determined by an actual perception in each case, that the act will be 
for our good. Nor is this what is intended to be taught by the author. 
~-Ep. 



SELF-LOYE AND PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS. Ill 

good, as such ; yet, that when we sit down in a cool 
hour, we can neither justify to ourselves this or any 
other pursuit, till we are convinced that it will be for 
our happiness, or at least not contrary to it. 

33. Virtue must seem consistent loith interest. — 
Common reason and humanity will have some influ- 
ence upon mankind, whatever becomes of speculations : 
but, so far as the interests of virtue depend upon the 
theory of it being secured from open scorn, so far its 
very being in the world depends upon its appearing to 
have no contrariety to private interest and self-love. 



CHAPTER 11. 



THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 

1. Moral faculty necessary in subjects of moral gov- 
ernment. — That which renders beings capable of moral 
government, is their having a moral nature, and moral 
faculties of perception and of action. Brute creatm-es 
are impressed and actuated by various instincts and 
propensions : so also are we. But additional to this, 
we have a capacity of reflecting upon actions and 
characters, and maldng them an object to our thought : 
and on our doing this, we naturally and unavoidably 
approve some actions, under the peculiar view of their 
being virtuous and of good desert; and disapprove 
others, as vicious and of ill desert. 

2. Proofs that lue have such a faculty. — That we 
have this moral approving and disapproving* faculty, 
is certain from our experiencing it in ourselves, and 

This -svay of speaking- is taken from Epktetv.s,^'^ and is made use of 
as seeming the most full, and least liable to cavil. And the moral faculty- 
may be understood to have these tT^'o epithets, doia^aarLKy and u-o6oKtfia- 
CTLKT}, upon a double account; because, upon a survey of actions, whether 
before or after they are done, it determines them to be good or evil ; and 
also because it determines itself to be the guide of action and of life, in 
contradistinction from all other faculties, or natural principles of action ; 
in the very same manner as speculative reason citrectli/ and naturally 
judges of speculative truth and falsehood ; and at the same time is at- 
tended Avith a consciousness upon reflection, that the natural right to 
judge of them belongs to it. 

*Arr. Epict. Lib. i. cap. 1. 

112 



THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



113 



recognizing it in each other. It appears from our ex- 
ercising it unavoidably, in the approbation and disap- 
probation even of feigned characters : from the words 
right and wrong^ odious and amiable^ base and wortliy^ 
with many others of like signification in all languages, 
applied to actions and characters ; from the many 
written systems of morals which suppose it; since it 
cannot be imagined, that all these authors, throughout 
all these treatises, had absolutely no meaning at all to 
their words, or a meaning merely chimerical : from our 
natural sense of gratitude, which implies a distinction 
betvv'een merely being the instrument of good, and in- 
tending it : from the like distinction every one makes 
between injury and m.ere harm, which, Hobbes says, is 
peculiar to mankind; and between injury and just 
punishment, a distinction plainly natural, prior to the 
consideration of human laws. It is manifest gi-eat 
part of common language, and of common behavior 
over the world, is formed upon supposition of such a 
mor&l faculty : whether called conscience^ moral reason^ 
moral sense, or divine reason ; whether considered as a 
perception! of the understanding, or as a sentiment of 
the heart, or, which seems the truth, as including both. 

3. Not doubtful what this faculty approves. — Nor is 
it at all doubtful in the general, what course of action 
this faculty, or practical discerning power within us, 
approves, and Vv' hat it disapproves. For, as much as it 

"Wrong means what is icrung or twisted ; i.e., something out of place, 
out of keeping vvdth other things. And right, of course, means the oppo- 
site of this. It is thus that right and wi'ong have their foundation in the 
nature of things. — Ed. 

t [The editions have "a sentiment of the understanding or a percep- 
tion of the heart," but I think it cannot be doubtful that Butler intended 
to write as I have printed it. W.j 
10* 



114 THE NATURE OF YIRTUE. 

has been disputed wherein virtue consists, or whatever 
ground for doubt there may be about particulars ; yet, 
in general, there is in reality an universally acknowl- 
edged standard of it. It is that which all ages and all 
countries have made profession of in public : it is that 
which every man you meet, puts on the show of : it is 
that which the primary and fundamental laws of all 
civil constitutions over the face of the earth, make it 
their business and endeavor to enforce the practice of 
upon mankind : namely, justice, veracity, and regard 
to common good. It being manifest, then, in general, 
that we have such a faculty or discernment as this : it 
may be of use to remark some things, more distinctly, 
concerning it. 

4. Its object is actions. — First, It ought to be ob- 
served, that the object of this faculty is actions,* com- 
prehending under that name active or practical princi- 
ples : those principles from which men would act, if 
occasions and circumstances gave them power ; and 
which, when fixed and habitual in any person, we call 
his character. It does not appear that brutes have the 
least reflex sense of actions, as distinguished from 
events : or that will and design, which constitute the 
very nature of actions as such, are at all an object to 
their perception. But to ours they are : and they are 
the object, and the only one, of the approving and dis- 
approving faculty. Acting, conduct, behavior, ab- 
stracted from all regard to what is, in fact and event, 
the consequence of it, is itself the natural object of the 
moral discernment ; as speculative truth and falsehood 
is of speculative reason. 



* OviVt i] apery nal Kaida — kviXELOEi u/Jm tvepy£La,lsl. Axiion., lib. ix., 16. 
Virtutis laus omnis in actionc cousistit. Cic. Off., lib. i., c. 6. 



THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



115 



5. Including intention,not consequences. — Intention of 
such and such consequences, indeed, is ahvays included ; 
for it is part of the action itself : but though the in- 
tended good or bad consequences do not follow, we 
have exactly the same sense of the action as if they 
did. In like manner we think well or ill of characters, 
abstracted from all consideration of the good or the 
evil, which persons of such characters have it actually 
in their pov/er to do. We never, in the moral way, 
applaud or blame either ourselves or others, for v/hat 
we enjoy or what we suffer, or for having impressions 
made upon us which we consider as altogether out of 
our power : but only for what we do, or would have 
done, had it been in our power ; or for what we leave 
undone which Ave might have done, or would have left 
undone though we could have done it. 

6. Moved discrimination implies a sense of descrl. — 
Secondly, Our sense or discernment of actions as mor- 
ally good or evil, implies in it a sense or discernment 
of them as of good or ill desert. It may be difficult 
to explain this perception,* so as to answer all the 
questions which maybe asked concerning it : but every 
one speaks of such and such actions as deserving pun- 
ishment; and it is not, I suppose, pretended that they 
have absolutely no meaning at all to the expression. 

7. This not a feeling that something is due to society, 
— Now the meaning plainly is not, that Vv^e conceive 
it for the good of society, that the doer of such actions 
should be made to suiter. For if unhappily it were 
resolved, that a man who, by some innocent action 
was infected with the plague, should be left to perish, 

* Is not the sense of desert a feeling, rather than a proper per- 
ception ? — Ed. 



116 



THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



lest, by other people's coming near him, the infection 
should spread ; no one would say, he deserved this 
trea.tment. Innocence and ill desert are inconsistent 
ideas. 

8. Ill desert supposes guilt. — 111 desert always sup- 
poses guilt , and if one be not part of the other, yet 
they are evidently and naturally connected in our 
mind. The sight of a man in misery raises our com- 
passion towards him ; and, if this misery be inflicted 
on him by another, our indignation against the author 
of it. But when we are informed that the sufferer is 
a villain, and is punished only for his treachery or 
cruelty; our compassion exceedingly lessens, and, in 
many instances, our indignation wholly subsides. Now 
what produces this effect, is the conception of that in 
the sufferer, which we call ill desert. 

9. It is the mediating' idea hetiveeii vice and misery. 
— Upon considering, then, or viev/ing together, our no- 
tion of vice and that of misery, there results a third, 
that of ill desert. And thus there is in human crea- 
tures an association of the two ideas, natural and 
moral evil, wickedness and punishment. If this asso- 
ciation were merely artificial or accidental, it were 
nothing: but being most unquestionably natural, it 
greatly concerns us to attend to it, instead of endeav- 
oring to explain it away. 

10. The sense of good desert is feeble in common in- 
stances of virtue. — It may be observed further, con- 
cerning our perception of good and of ill desert, that the 
former is very weak with respect to common instances 
of virtue.* One reason of which may be, that it does 

Virtue means manliness. It is a manful and successful struggle 
against evil tend-ucies, temptations, etc. Wliere there is no call for such 



THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



117 



not appear to a spectator, how far such instances of 
virtue proceed from a virtuous principle, or in what 
degree this principle is prevalent : since a very weak 
regard to virtue may be sufficient to make men act 
well irf many common instances. 

11. The sense of ill desert lessens with the tempta- 
tion. — And on the otljer hand, our perception of ill 
desert in vicious actions lessens in proportion to the 
temptations men are thought to have had to such vices. 
For, vice in human creatures consisting chiefly in the 
absence or want of the virtuous principle ; though a 
man be overcome, suppose by tortures, it does not from 
thence appear, to what degree the virtuous principle 
was wanting. All that appears is, that he had it not 
in such a degree as to. prevail over the temptation: but 
possibly he had it in a degree, which would have ren- 
dered him proof against common temptations. 

12. Moral discriminations arise from a comparison 
of actions luith the capacities of the agent — Thirdly, 
Our perception of vice and ill desert arises from, and 
is the result of, a comparison of actions with the na- 
ture and capacities of the agent. For, the mere neglect 
of doing what we ought to do, would, in many cases, 
be determined by all men to be in the highest degree 
vicious. And this determination must arise from such 
comparison and be the result of it ; because such neg- 
lect would not be vicious in creatures of other natures 
and capacities, as brutes. And it is the same also 
with respect to positive vices^ or such as consist in do- 
ing what we ought not. For, every one has a different 
sense of harm done by an idiot, madman, or child, and 

a struggle, right conduct has not the peculiar merit of virtue, though Etiil 
right and good. — Ed. 



118 



THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



by one of mature and common understanding ; though 
the action of both, including the intention which is 
part of the action, be the same : as it may be, since 
idiots and madmen, as well as children, are capable 
not only of doing mischief, but also of intending it. 
Now this difference must arise from somewhat dis- 
cerned in the nature or capacities of one, which ren- 
ders the action vicious ; and the want of v/hich in the 
other, renders the same action innocent or less vicious : 
and this plainly supposes a comparison, whether re- 
flected upon or not, between the action and capacities 
of the agent, previous to our determining an action to 
be vicious. And hence arises a proper application of 
the epithets, incongruous^ unsuitable^ disproportionate^ 
unfits to actions which our moral faculty determines to 
be vicious. 

13. Prudence is approved as virtuous^ and the reverse, 
— Fourthly, It deserves to be considered, whether men 
are more at liberty, in point of morals, to make them- 
selves miserable without reason, than to make other 
people so : or dissolutely to neglect their own greater 
good, for the sake of a present lesser gratification, than 
they are to neglect the good of others, whom nature 
has committed to then' care. It should seem, that a due 
concern about our own interest or happiness, and a 
reasonable endeavor to secure and promote it, which is, 
I think, very much the meaning of the word, prudeiice,* 
in our language ; it should seem, that this is virtue, 
and the contrary behavior faulty and blameful ; since, 



* Prudence is but the fruit of self-love". And although it is a virtue as 
against sclf-indulgcncc, yet it is not, as against our duty to others. To 
give, or withhold giving to the distressed, or to obey the commands 
of God, from prudential considerations, is not virtue. — Ed. 



THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



119 



in the calmest way of reflection, we approve of the 
first, and condemn the other conduct, both in ourselves 
and others. 

14. This a real moval discrimination. — This appro- 
bation and disapprobation are altogether different from 
mere desire of our own, or of their happiness, and from 
sorrow upon missing it. For the object or occasion of 
this last kind of perception, is satisfaction or uneasi- 
ness : whereas, the object of the first is active behavior. 
In one case, what our thoughts fix upon, is our con- 
dition ; in the other, our conduct. 

15. The disapprobation of imprudence, hoiuever, is 
not so sensible as that of injustice, etc. — It is true, in- 
deed, that nature has not given us so sensible a disap- 
probation of imprudence and folly, either in ourselves 
or others, as of falsehood, injustice, and cruelty : I sup- 
pose, because that constant habitual sense of private 
interest and good, which we always carry about with 
us, renders such sensible disapprobation less necessary, 
less wanting, to keep us from imprudently neglecting 
our own happiness, and foolishly injuring ourselves, 
than it is necessary, and wanting to keep us from in- 
juring others, to whose good we cannot have so strong 
and constant a regard ; and also because imprudence 
and folly appearing to bring its own punishment more 
immediately and constantly than injurious behavior, it 
less needs the additional punishment, which would be 
inflicted upon it by others, had they the same sensible 
indignation against it, as against injustice, and fraud 
and cruelty. 

Besides, unhappiness being in itself the natural ob- 
ject of compassion ; the unhappiness which people 
bring upon themselves, though it be wilfully, excites in 



120 



THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



US some pity for them : and this of com'se lessens our 
displeasure against them. 

16. Yet it is clear and real. — But still it is a matter 
of experience that we are formed so as to reflect very 
severely upon the greater instances of imprudent 
neglects and foolish rashness, both in ourselves and 
others. In instances of this kind, men often say of 
themselves with remorse, and of others with some in- 
dignation, that they deserved to suffer such calamities, 
because they brought them upon themselves, and would 
not take warning. Particularly when persons come to 
poverty and distress by a long course of extravagance, 
and after frequent admonitions, though without false- 
hood or injustice : we plainly do not regard such peo- 
ple as alike objects of compassion with those who are 
brought into the same condition by unavoidable ac- 
cidents. 

17. Hence prudence is a species of virtue^ and folly 
of vice. — From these things it appears that prudence 
is a species of virtue, and folly of vice : meaning by 
folly ^ somewhat quite different from mere incapacity ; 
a thoughtless want of that regard and attention to our 
own happiness, which we had capacity for. And this 
the word properly includes ; and, as it seems, in its 
usual acceptation : for we scarcely apply it to brute 
creatures. 

18. But it is the things not the words., lohich is con- 
tended for. — However, if any person be disposed to 
dispute the matter, I shall very willingly give him up 
the words virtue and vice^ as not applicable to pru- 
dence and folly : but must beg leave to insist, that the 
faculty within us, which is the judge of actions, ap- 
proves of prudent actions, and disapproves imprudent 



THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



121 



ones ; I say prudent and imprudent actions as such, 
and considered distinctly from the happiness or misery 
which they occasion. And by the way, this observa- 
tion may help to determine what justness there is in 
that objection against religion, that it teaches us to be 
interested and selfish. 

19. Benevolence not the whole of virtue. — Fifthly, 
Without inquiring how far, and in what sense, virtue 
is resolvable into benevolence, and vice into the want 
of it; it may be proper to observe, that benevolence 
and the want of it, singly considered, are in no sort the 
whole* of virtue and vice. For if this were the case, 
in the review of one's own character or that of others, 
our moral understanding and moral sense would be in- 
different to everything, but the degrees in which benev- 
olence prevailed, and the degrees in which it was 
wanting. That is, we should neither approve of benev- 
olence to some persons rather than to others, nor dis- 
approve injustice and falsehood upon any other account, 
than merely as an overbalance of happiness was fore- 
seen likely to be produced by the firsts and of misery 
by the second. 

20. This shown bij examples. — ^But now, on the 
contrary, suppose two men competitors for any thing 
whatever, which would be of equal advantage to each 
cf them ; though nothing indeed would be more im- 
pertinent, than for a stranger to busy himself to get one 
of them preferred to the other ; yet such endeavor 
would be virtue in behalf of a friend or benefactor, 

* The following paragraphs show clearly that Butler did not regard 
the production of happiness as the ground of right. He does in various 
places express the opinion that the right and the good really coincide. 
But the right is our guide to the good, and not the reverse. — Ed. 
11 



122 



THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



abstracted from all consideration of distant conse- 
quences : as that examples of gratitude, and the cultiva- 
tion of friendship, would be of general good to the world. 
Again, suppose one man should, by fraud or violence, 
take from another the fruit of his labor, wdth intent to 
give it to a third, who, he thought, would have as 
much pleasure from it, as would balance the pleasure 
which the first possessor would have had in the enjoy- 
ment, and his vexation in the loss of it ; suppose also 
that no bad consequences would follow : yet such an 
action would surely be vicious. Nay, farther, were 
treachery, violence, and injustice, no otherwise vicious, 
than as foreseen likely to produce an overbalance of 
misery to society ; then, if in any case a man could 
procure to himself as great advantage by an act of in- 
justice as the whole foreseen inconvenience, likely to 
be brought upon others by it, would amount to ; such 
a piece of injustice would not be faulty or vicious at 
all : because it would be no more than^ in any other 
case, for a man to prefer his own satisfaction to an- 
other's in equal degrees. 

21. Hence, the production of happiness is not our 
standard of moral approbation. — The fact then ap- 
pears to be that we are constituted so as to condemn 
falsehood, unprovoked violence, injustice, and to ap- 
prove of benevolence to some preferably to others, 
abstracted from all other consideration, which conduct 
is likeliest to produce an overbalance of happiness or 
misery. And, therefore, were the Author of nature to 
propose nothing to himself as an end but the produc- 
tion of happiness, were his moral character merely that 
of benevolence : yet ours is not so. Upon that sup- 
position, indeed, the only reason of his giving us the 



THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



123 



above-mentioned approbation of benevolence to some 
persons rather than others, and disapprobation of false- 
hood, unprovoked violence, and injustice, must be, that 
he foresaw this constitution of our nature would pro- 
duce more happiness, than forming us with a temper 
of more general benevolence. But still, since this is 
our constitution ; falsehood, violence, injustice, must 
be vice in us, and benevolence to some preferably to 
others, virtue ; abstracted from all consideration of the 
overbalance of evil or good, which they may appear 
likely to produce. 

22. What moral government must be, therefore. — 
Now if human creatures are endued with such a moral 
nature as we have been explaining, or with a moral fac- 
ulty, the natural object of which is actions : moral gov- 
ernment must consist in rendering them happy and 
unhappy, in rewarding and punishing them, as they 
follow, neglect, or depart from, the moral rule of action 
interwoven in their nature, or suggested and enforced 
by this moral faculty; in rewarding and punishing 
them upon account of their so doing. 

23. This view necessary in order to guard against 
erroneous teachings on the point. — I am not sensible 
that I have, in this fifth observation, contradicted what 
any author designed to assert. But some* of great 
and distinguished merit have, I think, expressed them- 
selves in a manner which may occasion some danger 
to careless readers, of imagining the whole of virtue to 
consist in singly aiming, according to the best of their 
judgment, at promoting the happiness of mankind in 
the present state ; and the whole of vice, in doing 



*The reference is especially to Shaftesbury. — Ed. 



124 



THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



what they foresee, or might foresee, is likely to produce 
an overbalance of unhappiness in it : than which mis- 
takes none can be conceived more terrible. For it is 
certain that some of the most shocking instances of 
injustice, adultery, murder, perjury, and even of per- 
secution, may, in many supposable cases, not have the 
appearance of being likely to produce an overbalance 
of misery in the present state ; perhaps sometimes may 
have the contrary appearance. For this reflection 
might easily be carried on, but I forbear. — The happi- 
ness of the world is the concern of Him who is the 
Lord and proprietor of it : nor do we know what we 
are about when we endeavor to promote the good of 
mankind in any ways but those which he has directed; 
that is indeed, in all ways not contrary to veracity and 
justice. I speak thus upon supposition of persons 
really endeavoring, in some sort, to do good without 
regard to these. But the truth seems to be, that such 
supposed endeavors proceed, almost always, from am- 
bition, the spirit of party, or some indirect principle 
concealed perhaps in great measure from persons 
themselves. 

24. We should endeavor to do good within the bounds 
of justice and veracit?/, though ive may often miscarry 
from short-sightedness. — And though it is our business 
and our duty, to endeavor, within the bounds of verac- 
ity and justice, to contribute to the ease, convenience, 
and even cheerfulness and diversion of our fellow-crea- 
tures: yet, from our short views, it is greatly uncer- 
tain whether this endeavor will, in particular instances, 
produce an overbalance of happiness upon the whole ; 
since so many and distant things must come into the 
account. And that which makes it our duty is, that 



THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 



125 



there is some appearance that it will, and no positive 
appearance sufficient to balance this, on the contrary 
side ; and also, that such a benevolent endeavor is a 
cultivation of that most excellent of all virtuous prin- 
ciples, the active principle of benevolence. 

25. But there can be no falsehood without intending' 
it. — However, though veracity, as well as justice, is to 
be our rule of life ; it must be added, otherwise a snare 
will be laid in the way of some plain men, that the 
use of the common forms of speech generally under- 
stood, cannot be falsehood ; and, in general, that there 
can be no designed falsehood without designing to 
deceive. It must likewise be observed, that in rmmber- 
less cases, a man may be under the strictest obliga- 
tions to what he foresees will deceive,* without his 
intending it. For it is impossible not to foresee that the 
words and actions of men in different ranks and em- 
ployments, and of different educations, will perpetually 
be mistaken by each other : and it cannot but be so 
whilst they will judge with the utmost carelessness, as 
they daily do, of what they are not, perhaps, enough 
informed to be competent judges of, even though they 
considered it with great attention. 

* As in the case of a pliysician, who resorts to a surgical operation as 
the only chance of cure, when ignorant persons are sure to think it mere 
cruelty, or if unsuccessful, murder. — Ed. 
11* 



CHAPTER III. 



PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 

SECTION I. 
COMPASSION* 

1. Compassion as a social principle. — Every man 
is to be considered in two capacities, the private and 
public ; as designed to pursue his own interest, and 
likewise to contribute to the good of others. Whoever 
will consider, may see, that in general there is no con- 
trariety between these ; but that from the original con- 
stitution of man, and the circumstances he is placed 
in, they perfectly coincide, and mutually carry on each 
other. But, amongst the great variety of affections or 
principles of action in our nature, some in their primary 
intention and design seem to belong to the single or 
private, others to the public or social capacity. The 
affections required in the text are of the latter sort. 
When we rejoice in the prosperity of others, and com- 
passionate their distresses, we, as it were, substitute 
them for ourselves, their interest for our own ; and have 
the same kind of pleasure in their prosperity, and sor- 
row in their distress, as we have from reflection upon 
our own. Now there is nothing strange or unaccount- 

* Consisting of portions of the fifth and sixth sermons at the Rolls ; 
preached from the text — "Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep 
with them that weep." — Romans, 12 : 15. 

126 



COMPASSION. 



127 



able in our being thus carried out, and affected towards 
the interests of others. For, if there be any appetite, 
or any inward principle besides self-love ; why may there 
not be an affection to the good of our fellow-creatures, 
and delight from that affection's being gratified, and 
uneasiness from things going contrary to it ? * 

* There being manifestly tins appearance of men's substituting others 
for themselves, and being carried out and affected towards them as to- 
wards themselves ; some persons, who have a system which excludes 
every affection of this sort, have taken a pleasant method to solve it ; and 
tell you it is not another you are at all concerned about, but yourself only, 
when you feel the affection called compassion ; i.e. here is a plain mat- 
ter of fact, which men cannot reconcile with the general account they 
think fit to give of things : they therefore, instead of that manifest fact, 
substitute another, which is reconcilable to their own scheme. 

Eor does not everybody by compassion mean an affection, the object 
of which is another in distress ? Instead of this, but designing to have 
it mistaken for this, they speak of an affection or passion, the object of 
which is ourselves, or danger to ourselves. Hobbes defines pity, imagina- 
tion, or fiction of future calamity to ourselves, proceeding from the sense [he 
means sight or knowledge] of another man's calamity. 

Thus fear and compassion would be the same idea, and a fearful and 
a compassionate man the same character, which every one immediately 
sees are totally different. 

Further, to those who give any scope to their affections, there is no 
perception or inward feeling more universal than this : that one who has 
been merciful and compassionate throughout the course of his behavior, 
should himself be treated with kindness, if he happens to fall into circum- 
stances of distress. Is fear, then, or cov/ardice, so great a recommenda- 
tion to the favor of the bulk of mankind ? Or is it not plain, that mere 
fearlessness (and therefore not the contrary) is one of the most popular 
qualifications ? This shows that mankind are not affected towards com- 
passion as fear, but as somewhat totally different. 

Nothing would more expose such accounts as these of the affections 
which are favorable and friendly to our fellow-creatures, than to substi- 
tute the definitions, which this author, and others who follow his steps, 
give of such affections, instead of the words by which tlicy are commonly 
expressed. Hobbes, after having laid down, that pity or compassion is 
only fear for ourselves, goes on to explain the reason wliy wc pity our 
friends in distress more than others. Now substitute the definition instead 



128 PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 

2. 75 a distinct principle. — Of tliese two, delight in 



of tiie T^'ord pitij in this place, and the inquiry Avill be, why -sve fear our 
fi isrids, etc., v/hich Avords (since he really does not mean why we are afraid 
of them) make no question or sentence at all. So that common language, 
the words to compassionate, to pity, cannot be accommodated to his ac- 
count of compassion. The very joining of the words to pity our friends, 
is a direct contradiction to his definition of pity : because those words, so 
joined, necessarily express that our friends are the objects of the passion : 
whereas his definition of it asserts, that ourselves (or danger to ourselves) 
are the only objects of it. 

He might indeed have avoided this absurdity, by plainly saying what 
he is going to account for ; namely, why the sight of tlic innocent, or of 
our friends in distress, raises greater fear for ourselves than the sight of 
other persons in distress. But had he put the thing thus plainly, tlie fact 
itself would have been doubted ; that the sight of our friends in distress 
raises in us greater fear for ourselves, than the sight of others in distress. 

And in the next place, it would immediately have occurred to every 
one, that the fact now mentioned, which at least is doubtful, whether true 
or false, was not the same with this fact, which nobody ever doubted, that 
the sight of our friends in distress raises in us greater compassion, than the 
sight of others in distress : every one, I sa}-, Avould have seen that these 
are not the same but tu-o different inquiries ; and consequently, that fear 
and compassion are not the same. 

Suppose a person to be in real danger, and Jby some means or other 
to haA^e forgot it; any trifling accident, any sound might alarm him, recall 
the danger to his remembrance, and renew his fear : but it is almost too 
grossly ridiculous (thougli it is to show an absurdity) to speak of that sound 
or accident as an object of compassion ; and yet, according to Mr. Hobbes, 
our greatest friend in distress is no more to us, no more the object of 
compassion, or of any affection in our heart : neither the one nor the 
other raises any emotion in our mind, but only the thoughts of our liable- 
ness to calamity, and the fear of it; and both equally do this. It is fit 
such sort of accounts of human nature should be shown to be what they 
really are, because there is raised upon them a general scheme which 
undermines the whole foundation of common justice and honesty. — See 
Hobbes of Human Nature, c. 9, § 10. 

There are often tln-ee distinct perceptions or inward feelings upon 
sight of persons in distress : real sorrow and concern for the misery of 
our fellow-creatures; some degree of satisfaction from a consciousness of 
our freedom from that misery; and as the mind passes on from one thing 
to another, it is not unnatural from such an occasion to reflect upon our 



COMPASSION. 



129 



the prosperity of others, and compassion for their dis- 
tresses, the last is felt much more generally than the 
former. Though men do not universally rejoice with 
all whom they see rejoice, yet, accidental obstacles re- 
moved, they naturally compassionate all, in some 
degree, whom they see in distress : so far as they have 
any real perception or sense of that distress : insomuch 
that words expressing this latter, pity, compassion, fre- 
quently occur ; whereas we have scarce any single one, 
by which the former is distinctly expressed. Congrat- 
ulation indeed answers condolence ; but both these 
words are intended to signify certain forms of civility^ 
rather than any inward sensation or feeling. This dif- 
ference or inequality is so remarkable, that we plainly 
consider compassion as itself an original, distinct, par- 
own liableness to the same or other calamities. The two last frequently 
accompany the first, but it is the first onlij which is properly compassion, 
of which the distressed are the objects, and which directly carries us with 
calmness and thought to their assistance. Any one of these, from 
various and complicated reasons, may in particular cases prevail over the 
other two ; and there are, I suppose, instances, where the bare sight of 
distress, without our feeling any compassion for it, may be the occasion 
of either or both of the two latter perceptions. 

One might add, that if there be really any such thing as the fiction or 
imagination of danger to ourselves from sight of the miseries of others, 
which Ilobbes speaks of, and which he has absurdly mistaken for the 
whole of compassion ; if there be any thing of this sort common to man- 
kind, distinct from the reflection of reason, it would be a most remark- 
able instance of what was furthest from his thoughts ; namely, of a mutual 
sympathy between each particular of the species, a fellow-feeling com- 
mon to mankind. It Avould not indeed be an example of our substitu- 
ting others for ourselves, but it would be an example of our substituting 
ourselves for others. And as it Avould not be an instance of benevolence, 
so neither would it be an instance of self-love : for this phantom of dan- 
ger to ourselves, naturally rising to view upon sight of the distresses of 
others, would be no more an instance of love to ourselves, than the pain 
of hunger is. 



130 



PARTICULAK AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



ticular affection in human nature ; whereas to rejoice 
in the good of others, is only a consequence of the 
general affection of love and good-will to them. 

3. Reason for the affection. — The reason and ac- 
count of which matter is this : when a man has ob- 
tained any particular advantage or felicity, his end is 
gained ; and he does not in that particular want the 
assistance of another : there was therefore no need of 
a distinct affection towards that felicity of another 
already obtained ; neither would such affection directly 
carry him on to do good to that person : whereas men 
in distress want assistance ; and compassion leads us 
directly to assist them. The object of the former is 
the present felicity of another ; the object of the latter 
is the present misery of another. It is easy to see that 
the latter wants a particular affection for its relief, and 
that the former does not want one, because it does not 
want assistance. And upon supposition of a distinct 
affection in both cases, the one must rest in the exer- 
cise of itself, having nothing further to gain ; the other 
does not rest in itself, but carries us on to assist the 
distressed. 

4. As seen from the course it dictates. — Thus, to 
relieve the indigent and distressed, to single out the 
unhappy, from whom can be expected no returns either 
of present entertainment or future service, for the ob- 
jects of our favors ; to esteem a man's being friendless 
as a recommendation; dejection, and incapacity of 
struggling through the world, as a motive for assisting 
him ; in a word, to consider these circumstances of dis- 
advantage, which are usually thought a sufficient 
reason for neglect and overlooking a person, as a 
motive for helping him forward : this is the course of 



COMPASSION. 



131 



benevolence which compassion marks out and directs 
us to : this is that humanity, which is so peculiarly 
becoming our nature and circumstances in this world. 

AFFECTIONS NOT A WEAKNESS. 

5. Is it a weakness? — But, supposing these affec- 
tions natural to the mind, particularly the last ; " Has 
not each man troubles enough of his own ? must he 
indulge an affection which appropriates to himself 
those of others ? which leads him to contract the least 
desirable of all friendships, friendships with the unfor- 
tunate ? Must we invert the known rule of prudence, 
and choose to associate ourselves with the distressed ? 
or, allowing that we ought, so far as it is in our power 
to relieve them, yet is it not better to do this from 
reason and duty ? Does not passion and affection of 
every kind perpetually mislead us ? Nay, is not pas- 
sion and affection itself a weakness, and what a per- 
fect being must be entirely free from ? " 

6. No : but is necessary in man. — Perhaps so : but 
it is mankind I am speaking of; imperfect creatures, 
and who naturally and, from the condition we are 
placed in, necessarily depend upon each other. With 
respect to such creatures, it would be found of as bad 
consequence to eradicate all natural affections, as to be 
entirely governed by them. This would almost sink 
us to the condition of brutes ; and that would leave us 
without a sufficient principle of action. Reason alone, 
whatever any one may wish, is not in reality a suf- 
ficient motive of virtue in such a creature as man ; but 
this reason joined with those affections which God has 
impressed upon his heart : and when these are allowed 



132 PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



scope to exercise themselves, but under strict govern- 
ment and direction of reason ; then it is we act suit- 
ably to our natm'e, and to the circumstances God has 
placed us in. 

7. Is no more a weakness than our senses, — Neither 
is affection itself at all a weakness ; nor does it argue 
defect, any otherwise than as our senses and appetites 
do; they belong to our condition of nature, and are 
what we cannot be without. God Almighty is, to be 
sure, unmoved by passion or appetite, unchanged by 
affection : but then it is to be added, that he neither 
sees, nor hears, nor perceives things by any senses like 
ours ; but in a manner infinitely more perfect. Now, 
as it is an absurdity almost too gross to be mentioned, 
for a man to endeavor to get rid of his senses, because 
the Supreme Being discerns things more perfectly 
without them ; it is as real, though not as obvious an 
absurdity, to endeavor to eradicate the passions he has 
given us, because he is without them. 

8. Both belong to our nature. — For, since our pas- 
sions are as really a part of our constitution as our 
senses ; since the former as really belong to our con- 
dition of nature as the latter ; to get rid of either is 
equally a violation of and breaking in upon that nature 
and constitution he has given us. Both our senses 
and our passions are a supply to the imperfection of 
our nature : thus they show that we are such sort of 
creatures, as to stand in need of those helps which 
higher orders of creatures do not. But it is not the 
supply, but the deficiency ; as it is not a remedy, but a 
disease, which is the imperfection. However, our ap- 
petites, passions, senses, no way imply disease : nor in- 
deed do they imply deficiency or imperfection of any 



COMPASSION. 



133 



sort ; but only this, that the constitution of nature, ac- 
cording to which God has made us, is such as to re- 
quire them. 

USES OF COMPASSION. 

9. Without affections men ivould not do their duty. — 
The private interest of the individual Vs^ould not be 
sufficiently provided for by reasonable and cool self- 
love alone ; therefore the appetites and passions are 
placed within as a guard and further security, without 
which it would not be taken due care of. It is mani- 
fest our life would be neglected, were . it not for the 
calls of hunger and thirst and weariness; notwith- 
standing that without them reason would assure us, 
that the recruits of food and sleep are the necessary 
means of our preservation. It is therefore absurd to 
imagine, that, without affection, the same reason alone 
would be more effectual to engage us to perform the 
duties we owe to our fellow-creatures. One of this 
make would be as defective, as much wanting, consid- 
ered with respect to society, as one of the former make 
would be defective, or wanting, considered as an indi- 
vidual, or in his private capacity. Is it possible any 
can in earnest think, that a public spirit, i.e.^ a settled 
reasonable principle of benevolence to mankind, is so 
prevalent and strong in the species, as that we may 
venture to throw off" the under affections, which are its 
assistants, carry it forward and mark out particular 
courses for it; family, friends, neighborhood, the dis- 
tressed, our country? The common joys and the 
common sorrows, which belong to these relations and 
circumstances, are as plainly useful to society, as the 

12 



134 



PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



pain and pleasure belonging to hunger, thirst, and 
weariness, are of service to the individual. 

10. Compassion gives the indigent access to us. — In 
defect of that higher principle of reason, compassion 
is often the only way by which the indigent can have 
access to us : and therefore, to eradicate this, though it 
is not indeed formally to deny them that assistance 
which is their due ; yet it is to cut them off from that 
which is too frequently their only way of obtaining it. 

11. The unfeeling are restrained hy the compassion 
of others. — And as for those who have shut up this 
door against the complaints of the miserable, and con- 
quered this affection in themselves ; even these persons 
will be under great restraints from the same affection 
in others. Thus a man who has himself no sense of 
injustice, cruelty, oppression, will be kept from running 
the utmost lengths of Vv/ickedness, by fear of that de- 
testation, and even resentment of inhumanity, in many 
particular instances of it, which compassion for the 
object towards whom such inhumanity is exercised, 
excites in the bulk of mankind. And this is frequently 
the chief danger, and the chief restraint, which tyrants 
and the great oppressors of the world feel. 

12. Apathy is amoral disease. — In general, experi- 
ence will show, that as want of natural appetite to 
food supposes and proceeds from some bodily disease ; 
so the apathy the Stoics talk of, as much supposes, or 
is accompanied with, somewhat amiss in the moral 
character, in that which is the health of the mind. 
Those who formerly aimed at this upon the foot of 
philosophy, appear to have had better success in eradi- 
cating the affections of tenderness and compassion, 
than they had with the passions of envy, pride, and 

A 



COMPASSION. 



135 



resentment: these latter, at best, were but concealed, 
and that imperfectly too. How far this observation 
may be extended to such as endeavor to suppress the 
natural impulses of their affections, in order to form 
themselves for business and the world, I shall not de- 
termine. But there does not appear any capacity or 
relation to be named, in which men ouHit to be en- 
tirely deaf to the calls of affection, unless the judicial 
one is to be excepted. 

13. Hardness of heart in men of pleasure. — And as 
to those who are commonly called the men of pleasure, 
it is manifest that the reason they set up for hardness 
of heart, is to avoid being interrupted in their course, 
by the ruin and misery they are the authors of : neither 
are persons of this character always the most free from 
the impotences of envy and resentment. What may 
men at last bring themselves to, by suppressing their 
passions and affections of one kind, and leaving those 
of the other in their full strength ? but surely it might 
be expected that persons who make pleasure their 
study and their business, if they understood what they 
profess, would reflect, how many of the entertainments 
of life, how many of those kind of amusements vdiich 
seem peculiarly to belong to men of leisure and educa- 
tion, they become insensible to by this acquired hard- 
ness of heart. 

SUGGESTS THE EIGHT AIM OF LIFE. 

14. Tranquillity to be sought^ rather than high enjou- 
ment. — And now to go on to the uses we should make 
of the foregoing reflections, the further ones they lead 
to, and the general temper they have a tendency to be- 



136 



PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



get in us. There being that distinct affection im- 
planted in the nature of man, tending to lessen the 
miseries of life, that particular provision made for 
abating its sorrows, more than for increasing its posi- 
tive happiness, as before explained; this may suggest 
to us what should be our general aim respecting our- 
selves, in our passage through this world : namely, to 
endeavor chiefly to escape misery, keep free from 
uneasiness, pain, and sorrow, or to get relief and miti- 
gation of them ; to propose to ourselves peace and 
tranquillity of mind, rather than pursue after high enjoy- 
ments. This is what the constitution of nature before 
explained marks out as the course we should follow, 
and the end we should aim at. To make pleasure and 
mirth and jollity our business, and be constantly hurry- 
ing about after some gay amusement, some new gratifi- 
cation of sense or appetite, to those who will consider 
the nature of man and our condition in this world, will 
appear the most romantic scheme of life that ever en- 
tered into thought. And yet how many are there who 
go on in this course, without learning better from the 
daily, the hourly disappointments, listlessness, and sa- 
tiety, which accompany this fashionable method of 
wasting away their days ! 

15. The miseries of life viewed through compassion 
promote this. — The subject we have been insisting 
upon would lead us into the same kind of reflections, 
by a difierent connection. The miseries of life brought 
home to ourselves by compassion, viewed through this 
affection considered as the sense by which they are 
perceived, would beget in us that moderation, humility, 
and soberness of mind, which has been now recom- 
mended ; and which peculiarly belongs to a season of 



COMPASSION. 



137 



recollection,* the only purpose of which is to bring us 
to a sense of things, to recover us out of that forget- 
fulness of ourselves, and our true state, which it is 
■ manifest far the greatest part of men pass their whole 
life in. 

16. Hence the use of the house of mourning. — Upon 
this account Solomon says, that it is better to go to 
the house of mournings than to go to the house of feast- 
ing ; i.e.., it is more to a man's advantage to turn his 
eyes towards objects of distress, to recall sometimes 
to his remembrance the occasions of sorrow, than to 
pass ail his days in thoughtless mirth and gayety. 
And he represents the wise as choosing to frequent the 
former of these places ; to be sure not for its own sake, 
but because bi/ the sadness of the countenance the heart 
is made better. Every one observes how temperate 
and reasonable men are when humbled and brci^^-'it 
low by afflictions, in comparison of what they are in 
high prosperity. By this voluntary resort to the house 
of mourning, which is here recommended, we might 
learn all those useful instructions which calamities 
teach, without undergoing them ourselves ; and grow 
wiser and better at a more easy rate than men com- 
monly do. 

17. Such a vieio opens the heart to religion. — And 
as to that obstinacy and wilfulness which renders men 
so insensible to the motives of religion ; this right 
sense of ourselves and of the world about us would 
bend the stubborn mind, soften the heart, and make it 
more apt to receive impression : and this is the proper 
temper in which to call our ways to remembrance, to 



* The original sermon was preached at the season of Lent. — Ed. 



138 PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



review and set home upon ourselves the miscarriages 
of our past life. In such a compliant state of mind, 
reason and conscience will have a fair hearing ; which 
is the preparation for, or rather the beginning of, that 
repentance, the outward show of which we ail put on 
at this season. 

18. And turns our thoughts to a better state. — Lastly, 
The various miseries of life which lie before us 
wherever we turn our eyes, the frailty of this mortal 
state we are passing through, may put us in mind that 
the present world is not our home ; that we are merely 
strangers and travellers in it, as all our fathers were. 
It is therefore to be considered as a foreign country ; 
in which our poverty and wants, and the insufficient 
supplies of them, were designed to turn our views to 
that higher and better state we are heirs to : a state 
w^here will be no follies to be overlooked, no miseries 
to be pitied, no wants to be relieved ; where the affec- 
tion we have been now treating of will happily be lost, 
as there will be no objects to exercise it upon: for God 
shall ivipe aiuay all tears from their eyes^ and there 
shall be no more deaths neither sorrow nor crying; 
neither shall there be any more pain ; for the former 
things are passed away. 

SECTION II. 
RESENTMENT* 

1. Why have we resentment ? — Since perfect good- 

Eiglith sermon at the Rolls ; preached from the text, — "Ye have 
heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love tliy neighbor and hate thine 
enemy. But I say unto you. Love your enemies, bless them that curse 
you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despite- 
fuUy use you, and persecute you.'^ — Matthew, 5 : 43, 44. 



RESENTMENT. 



139 



ness in the Deity is the principle from whence the uni- 
verse was brought into being, and by which it is pre- 
served ; and since general benevolence is the great law 
of the whole moral creation : it is a question which 
immediately occurs, Why had man implanted in Mm a 
principle^ lohich appears the direct contrary to benevo- 
lence ? Now the foot upon which inquiries of this 
kind should be treated is this : to tal^e human nature 
as it is, and the circumstances in which it is placed as 
they are ; and then consider the correspondence be- 
tween that nature and those circumstances, or what 
course of action and behavior, respecting those circum- 
stances, any particular affection or passion leads us to. 

2. Not^ ivhy shoidd lue need it ? — This I mention to 
distinguish the matter now before us from disquisitions 
of quite another kind ; namely. Why we are not made 
more perfect creatures, or placed in better circumstances ? 
these being questions which we have not, that I know 
of, any thing at all to do with. God Almighty un- 
doubtedly foresaw the disorders, both natural and 
moral, which would happen in this state of things. If 
upon this we set ourselves to search and examine why 
he did not prevent them ; we shall, I am afraid, be in 
danger of running into somewhat worse than imperti- 
nent curiosity. But upon this to examine how far the 
nature which he hath given us hath a respect to those 
circumstances, such as they are ; how far it leads us to 
act a proper part in them ; plainly belongs to us : and 
such inquiries are in many ways of excellent use. 
Thus the thing to be considered is, not. Why ive were 
not made of such a nature, and placed in such circum- 
stances, as to have no need of so harsh and turbulent a 
passion as resentment : but, taking our nature and con- 



140 PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



dition as being what they are, V/hy or for what end 
such a passion ivas given us : and this chiefly in order 
to show what are the abuses of it. 

3. It is not hatred. — The persons who laid down for 
a rule, Thott shalt love thy neighbor^ and hate thiiie 
enemy, made short work with this matter. They did 
not, it seems, perceive any thing to be disapproved in 
hatred, more than in good-will : and, according to their | 
system of morals, our enemy Vvas the proper natural 
object of one of these passions, as our neighbor was 

of the other of them. 

This was all they had to say, and all they thought 
needful to be said, upon the subject. But this cannot 
be satisfactory ; because hatred, malice, and revenge, 
are directly contrary to the religion we profess, and to 
the nature and reason of the thing itself. 

4. Must inquire ivhat it is. — Therefore, since no 
passion God hath endued us with can be in itself evil ; 
and yet since men frequently indulge a passion in such 
ways and degrees that at length it becomes quite an- 
other thing from what it was originally in our nature ; 
and those vices of malice and revenge in particular 
take their occasion from the natural passion of resent- 
ment : it will be needful to trace this up to its original, 
that we may see, what it is in itself, as placed in our 
nature by its Author ; from w^hich it will plainly appear, 
for luhat ends it was placed there. And when we know 
what the passion is in itself, and the ends of it, w^e 
shall easily see, luhat are the abuses of it, in luhich 
malice and revenge consist; and which are so strongly 
forbidden in the text, by the direct contrary being com- 
manded. 

5. Is of tivo kinds: sudden and settled. — Resentment 



RESENTMENT. 



141 



is of two kinds : hasty and sudden^ or settled and delib- 
erate. The former is called anger, and often passion; 
which, though a general word, is frequently appro- 
priated and confined to the particular feeling, sudden 
anger, as distinct from deliberate resentment, malice, 
and revenge. In all these w^ords is usually implied 
somewhat vicious ; somewhat unreasonable as to the 
occasion of the passion, or immoderate as to the degree 
or duration of it. But that the natural passion itself is 
indifferent, St Paul has asserted in that precept. Be ye 
angry., and sin not : * which though it is by no means 
to be understood as an encouragement to indulge our- 
selves in anger, the sense being certainly this. Though 
ye he angry ^ sin not; yet here is evidently a distinction 
made between anger and sin ; between the natural 
passion and sinful anger. 

SUDDEN RESENTMENT. 

6. Sudden anger is mere instinct. — Sudden anger ^ 
upon certain occasions, is mere instinct : as merely so, 
as the disposition to close our eyes upon the apprehen- 
sion of somewhat falling into them ; and no more 
necessarily implies any degree of reason. I say neces- 
sarily : for to be sure hasty, as well as deliberate, anger 
may be occasioned by injmy or contempt ; in which 
cases reason suggests to our thoughts that injury and 
contempt, which is the occasion of the passion : but I 
am speaking of the former only so far as it is to be dis- 
tinguished from the latter. The only way in which 
our reason and understanding can raise anger, is by 
representing to our mind injustice or injury of some 



* Ephesians, 4 : 26. 



142 



PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



kind or other. Now momentary anger is frequently 
raised, not only without any real, but without any ap- 
parent, reason ; that is, without aiiy appearance of in- 
jury, as distinct from hurt or pain. It cannot, I sup- 
pose, be thought, that this passion, in infants, in the 
lower species of animals, and, which is often seen, in 
men towards theiri — it cannot, I say, be imagined, that 
these instances of this passion are the effect of reason : 
no, they are occasioned by mere sensation and feeling. 
It is opposition, sudden hurt, violence, which naturally 
excites the passion ; and the real demerit or fault of 
him who offers that violence, or is the cause of that 
opposition or hurt, does not, in many cases, so much 
as come into thought. 

7. Its office is to resist sudden force, etc. — The rea- 
son and end, for which man was made thus liable to 
this passion is, that he might be better qualified to pre- 
vent, and likewise (or perhaps chiefly) to resist and de- 
feat sudden force, violence, and opposition, considered 
merely as such, and without regard to the fault or de- 
merit of him who is the author of them. Yet, since 
violence may be considered in this other and further 
view, as implying fault ; and since injury, as distinct 
from harm, m.ay raise sudden anger; sudden anger 
may likewise accidentally serve to prevent, or remedy, 
such fault and injury. But, considered as distinct from 
settled anger, it stands in our nature for self-defence, 
and not for the administration of justice. There are 
plainly cases, and in the uncultivated parts of the 
v7orld, and where regular governments are not formed, 
they frequently happen, in which there is no time for 
consideration, and yet to be passive is certain destruc- 
tion ; in which, sudden resistance is the only security. 



RESENTMENT. 



143 



DELIBERATE RESENTMENT. 

8. Deliberate anger implies ivrong. — But from this, 
deliberate anger or resentment is essentially distin- 
guished, as the latter is not naturally excited by, or in- 
tended to prevent mere harm without appearance of 
wrong or injustice. Now, in order to see, as exactly 
as we can, what is the natural object and occasion of 
such resent m^ent ; let us reflect upon the manner in 
which we are touched with reading, suppose, a feigned 
story of baseness and villany, properly worked up to 
m.ove our passions. This immediately raises indigna- 
tion, somewhat of a desire that it should be punished. 
And though the designed injury be prevented, yet that 
it was designed is sufficient to raise this inward feel- 
ing. Suppose the story true, this inward feeling w^ould 
be as natural and as just : and one may venture to 
affirm, that there is scarce a man in the world, but 
would have it upon some occasions. It seems in us 
plainly connected with a sense of virtue and vice, of 
moral good and evil. Suppose further, v/e knev/ both 
the person who did and who suffered the injury; 
neither would this make any alteration, only that it 
would probably affect us more. 

9. It is not malice. — The indignation raised by 
cruelty and injustice, and the desire of having it pun- 
ished, w^hich persons unconcerned would feel, is by no 
means malice. No, it is resentment against vice and 
wickedness : it is one of the common bonds by which 
society is held together; a fellow-feeling which each 
individual has in behalf of the whole species, as well 
as of himself. And it does not appear that this, gen- 
erally speaking, is at all too high amongst mankind. 



144 



PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



10. Is stronger ivhen we ourselves are concerned. — 
Suppose now the injury I have been speaking of to be 
done against ourselves ; or those whom we consider as 
ourselves. It is plain, the way in which we should be 
affected would be exactly the same in kind: but it 
would certainly be in a higher degree, and less tran- 
sient ; because a sense of our own happiness and mis- 
ery is most intimately and always present to us ; and 
from the very constitution of our nature, we cannot 
but have a greater sensibility to, and be more deeply 
interested in, what concerns ourselves. 

11. And this is the whole of the natural passion. — 
And this seems to be the whole of this passion, which 
is, properly speaking, natural to mankind: namely, a 
resentment against injury and wickedness in general ; 
and in a higher degree when towards ourselves, in pro- 
portion to the greater regard which men naturally have 
for themselves, than for others. 

12. Hence, as appears, it is excited by injury. — From 
hence it appears, that it is not natural but moral evil ; 
it is not suffering, but injury, which raises that anger 
or resentment, which is of any continuance. The 
natural object of it is not one, who appears to the suf- 
fering person to have been only the innocent occasion 
of his pain or loss ; but one, who has been in a moral 
sense injurious either to ourselves or others. This is 
abundantly confirmed by observing what it is which 
heightens or lessens resentment; namely, the same 
which aggravates or lessens the fault : friendship, and 
former obligations, on one hand; or inadvertency, 
strong temptations, and mistake, on the other. 

13. Degrees of the affections. — All this is so much 
understood by mankind, how little soever it be reflected 



RESENTMENT. 



145 



upon, that a person would be reckoned quite distracted 
who should coolly resent a harm, which had not to 
himself the appearance of injury or wrong. Men do 
indeed resent what is occasioned through carelessness : 
but then they expect observance as their due, and so 
that carelessness is considered as faulty. It is likewise 
true, that they resent more strongly an injury done, 
than one which, though designed, was prevented, in 
cases where the guilt is perhaps the same : the reason 
however is, not that bare pain or loss raises resentment, 
but, that it gives a new, and, as I may speak, ad- 
ditional sense of the injury or injustice. According to 
the natural course of the passions, the degrees of re- 
sentment are in proportion, not only to the degree of 
design and deliberation in the injurious person; but, in 
proportion to this, joined with the degree of the evil 
designed or premeditated ; since this likewise comes in 
to make the injustice greater or less. And the evil or 
harm will appear greater when they feel it, than when 
they only reflect upon it: so therefore will the injury : 
and consequently the resentment will be greater. 

14. Its final cause. — The natural object or occa- 
sion of settled resentment then being injury, as distinct 
from pain or loss : it is easy to see, that to prevent 
and to remedy such injury, and the miseries arising 
from it, is the end for which this passion was im- 
planted in man. It is to be considered as a weapon, 
put into our hands by nature, against injury, injustice, 
and cruelty: how it may be innocently employed and 
made use of, shall presently be mentioned. 

15. Recapitulation. — The account which has been 
now given of this passion is, in brief, that sudden 
anger is raised by, and was chiefly intended to prevent 

13 



146 PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 

or remedy, mere harm distinct from injmy : but that it 
may be raised by injury, and may serve to prevent or 
to remedy it ; a,nd then the occasions and effects of it 
are the same with the occasions and effects of deliber- 
ate anger. But they are essentially distinguished in 
this, that the latter is never occasioned by harm, dis- 
tinct from injury ; and its natural proper end is to 
remedy or prevent only that harm, which implies, or is 
supposed to imply, injury or moral wrong. 

16. ^uch is the unchanged affection. — Every one 
sees that these observations do not relate to those, who 
have habitually suppressed the course of their passions 
and affections, out of regard either to interest or virtue ; 
or Avho, from habits of vice and folly, have changed 
their nature. But, I suppose, there can be no doubt 
but this, now described, is the general course of resent- 
ment, considered as a natural passion, neither increased 
by indulgence, nor corrected by virtue, nor prevailed 
over by other passions, or particular habits of life. 

ABUSES OF RESENTMENT. 

17. Passion an abuse of anger. — As to the abuses 
of anger, which it is to be observed may be in all dif- 
ferent degrees, the first which occurs is what is com- 
monly called passion ; to which some men are liable, in 
the same way as others are to the epilepsy^ or any other 
sudden particular disorder. This distemper of the 
mind seizes them upon the least occasion in the world, 
and perpetually without any real reason at all : and by 
means of it they are plainty, every day, every waking 
hour of their lives, liable and in danger of running into 
the most extravagant outrages. 



RESENTMENT. 



147 



18. Also peevishness. — Of a less boisterous, but not 
of a more innocent kind, is peevishness ; which I men- 
tion Y/ith pity, with real pity to the unhappy creatures, 
who, from their inferior station, or other circumstances 
and relations, are obliged to be in the way of, and to 
serve for a supply to it. Both these, for aught that I 
can see, are one and the same principle : but, as it 
takes root in m^inds of different makes, it appears dif- 
ferently, and so is come to be distinguished by differ- 
ent names. That which in a more feeble temper is 
peevishness, and languidly discharges itself upon every 
thing which comes in its Avay ; the same principle, in 
a temper of greater force and stronger passions, be- 
comes rage and fury. In one, the humor discharges 
itself at once ; in the other, it is continually discharg- 
ing. This is the account of passion and peevishness, 
as distinct from each other, and appearing in different 
persons. It is no objection against the truth of it, that 
they are both to be seen sometimes in one and the 
same person. 

19. Abuses of deliberate resentment. — With respect 
to deliberate resentment, the chief instances of abuse 
are : when, from partiality to ourselves, w^e imagine an 
injury done us, when there is none : when this par- 
tiality represents it to us greater than it really is : when 
we fall into that extravagant and monstrous kind of 
resentment, towards one who has innocently been the 
occasion of evil to us ; that is, resentment upon ac- 
count of pain or inconvenience, without injury ; which 
is the same absurdity^ as settled anger at a thing that 
is inanimate : when the indignation against injury and 
injustice rises too high, and is beyond proportion to 
the particular ill action it is exercised upon : or, lastly, 



148 



PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



when pain or harm of any kind is inflicted merely in 
consequence of, and to gratify, that resentment, though 
naturally raised. 

20. Obstinacy an abuse. — It would be endless to 
descend into and explain all the peculiarities of per- 
Yerseness and wayward humor which might be traced 
up to this passion. But there is one thing, which so 
generally belongs to and accompanies all excess and 
abuse of it, as to require being mentioned : a certain 
determination, and resolute bent of mind, not to be 
convinced or set right ; though it be ever so plain, that 
there is no reason for the displeasure, that it was raised 
merely by error or misunderstanding. In this there is 
doubtless a great mixture of pride ; but there is some- 
what more, which I cannot otherwise express, than 
that resentment has taken possession of the temper 
and of the mind, and will not quit its hold. It would 
be too minute to inquire whether this be any thing 
more than bare obstinacy : it is sufficient to observe, 
that it, in a very particular manner and degree, belongs 
to the abuses of this passion. 

USES OF RESENTMENT. 

21. Indignation a balance to pity. — But, notwith- 
standing all these abuses, "Is not just indignation 
against cruelty and wrong one of the instruments of 
death v/hich the Author of our nature hath pro- 
vided ? Are not cruelty, injustice, and wrong, the nat- 
ural objects of that indignation ? Surely then it may 
one way or other be innocently employed against 
them ? " True. Since therefore it is necessary for the 
very subsistence of the world that injury, injustice, and 



RESENTMENT. 149 

cruelty should be punished ; and since compassion, 
which is so natural to mankind, would render that ex- 
ecution of justice exceedingly difficult and uneasy ; 
indignation against vice and wickedness is, and may be 
allowed to be, a balance to that weakness of pity, and 
also to any thing else which would prevent the neces- 
sary methods of severity. 

22. As ill punishing crime, — Those who have never 
thought upon these subjects, may perhaps not see the 
v>^eight of this : but let us suppose a person guilty of 
murder, or any other action of cruelty, and that man- 
kind had naturally no indignation against such wick- 
edness and the authors of it ; but that everybody was 
affected towards such a criminal in the same way as 
towards an innocent man : compassion, amongst other 
things, would render the execution of justice exceed- 
ingly painful and difficult, and would often quite 
prevent it. And notwithstanding that the principle of 
benevolence is denied by some, and is really in a very 
low degree, that men are in a great measure insensible 
to the happiness of their fellow-creatures ; yet they 
are not insensible to their misery, but are very strongly 
moved with it : insomuch that there plainly is occasion 
for that feeling, which is raised by guilt and demerit, 
as a balance to that of compassion. Thus much may, 
T think, justly be aliovv^ed to resentment, in the strictest 
way of moral consideration. 

23. General good influence of the affection. — The 
good influence which this passion has in fact upon the 
affairs of the world, is obvious to every one's notice. 
Men are plainly restrained from injuring their fellow- 
creatures by fear of their resentment ; and it is very 
happy that they are so, Vvdien they would not be 

13* 



150 PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 

*■ 

restrained by a principle of virtue. And after an in- 
jury is done, and there is a necessity that the offender 
should be brought to justice ; the cool consideration 
of reason, that the security and peace of society re- 
quire examples of justice should be made, might 
indeed be sufficient to procure laws to be enacted, and 
sentence passed : but is it that cool reflection in the 
injured person, which, for the most part, brings the 
offender to justice? Or is it not resentment and in- 
dignation against the injury and the author of it? I 
am afraid there is no doubt which is commonly the 
case. This however is to be considered as a good 
effect, noth withstanding it were much to be wished 
that men would act from a better principle, reason and 
cool reflection. 

The account now given of the passion of resent- 
ment, as distinct from all the abuses of it, may suggest 
to our thoughts the following reflections : 

24. Indignation a practical proof of virtue. — First, 
That vice is indeed of ill desert, and must finally be 
punished. Why should men dispute concerning the 
reality of virtue, and whether it be founded in the 
nature of things, which yet surely is not matter of 
question; but why should this, I say, be disputed, 
when every man carries about him this passion, which 
affords him demonstration, that the rules of justice and 
equity are to be the guide of his actions ? For every 
man naturally feels an indignation upon seeing in- 
stances of villany and baseness, and therefore cannot 
commit the same without being self-condemned. 

25. Shoivs the ivisdom of God. — Secondly, That we 
should learn to be cautious, lest we charge God fool- 
ishhj^ by ascribing that to him, or the nature he has 



FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 



151 



given us, which is owing v\rholly to our own abuse of 
it. Men may speak of the degeneracy and corruption 
of the world, according to the experience Ihey have 
had of it ; but human nature, considered as the divine 
workmanship, should be treated as sacred : for in the 
vnage of God made he man. That passion, from 
whence men take occasion to run into the dreadful 
vices of malice and revenge ; even that passion, as im- 
planted in our nature by God, is not only innocent, 
but a generous movement of mind. It is in itself, and 
in its original, no more than indignation against injury 
and wickedness : that which is the only deformity in 
the creation, and the only reasonable object of abhor- 
rence and dislike. How manifold evidence have we 
of the divine wisdom and goodness, when even pain 
in the natural world, and the passion we have been 
now considering in the moral, come out instai^ces 
of it! 

SECTION III. 
FORGIVENESS OP INJURIES. * 

1. Affections adapted to disorders. — As God Al- 
mighty foresaw the irregularities and disorders, both 
natural and moral, which would happen in this state 
of things ; he hath graciously made some provision 
against them, by giving us several passions and affec- 
tions, which arise from, or whose objects are, those dis- 
orders. Of this sort are fear, resentment, compassion, 

^ Part of the ninth sermon at the Rolls ; preached from the text, — 
" Ye have heard that it hath heen said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor, 
and hate thine enemy. Bat I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them 
that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which 
despitefully use you and persecute you.'' — Matt. 5 : 43, 44. 



152 



PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



and others ; of which there could be no occasion or 
use in a perfect state : but in the present we should be 
exposed to greater inconveniences without them ; though 
there are very considerable ones, which they themselves 
are the occasions of. They are encumbrances indeed, 
but such as we are obliged to carry about with us, 
through this various journey of life: some of them as 
a guard against the violent assaults of others, and in 
our own defence ; some in behalf of others : and all 
of them to put us upon, and help to carry us through 
a course of behavior suitable to our condition, in de- 
fault of that perfection of wisdom and virtue, which 
would be in all respects our better security. 

2. Forgiveness not inconsistent icith just resentment. 
— The passion of anger or resentment hath akeady 
been largely treated of. It hath been shown that man- 
kind naturally feel some emotion of mind against in- 
jury and injustice, Vvhoever are the sufferers by it; 
and even though the injurious design be prevented 
from taking effect. Let this be called anger, indigna- 
tion, resentment, or by whatever name any one shall 
choose ; the thing itself is understood, and is plainly 
natural. It has likewise been observed, that this nat- 
ural indignation is generally moderate and low 'enough 
in mankind, in each particular man, v^hen the injury 
which excites it doth not affect himself, or one whom 
he considers as himself. Therefore the precepts to 
forgive^ and to love our enemies^ do not relate to that 
general indignation against injury and the authors of 
it, but to this feeling, or resentment when raised by 
private or personal injury. But no man could be 
thought in earnest, who should assert that, though in- 
dignation against injury, Vv'hen others arc the sufferers, 



FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 



153 



is innocent and just ; yet the same indignation against 
it, when we ourselves are the sufferers, becomes faulty 
and blaraable. These precepts therefore cannot be 
understood to forbid this in the latter case, more than 
in the former. Nay they cannot be understood to for- 
bid this feeling in the latter case, though raised to a 
higher degree than in the former: because, as was also 
observed further, from the very constitution of our 
nature, we cannot but have a greater sensibility to what 
concerns ourselves. Therefore the precepts in the text, 
and others of the like import with them, must be un- 
derstood to forbid only the excess and abuse of this 
natural feeling, in case of personal and private injury : 
the chief instances of which excess and abuse have 
likewise been already remarked ; and all of them, ex- 
cepting that of retaliation, do so plainly in the very 
terms express somewhat unreasonable, disproportion- 
ate, and absurd, as to admit of no pretence or shadow 
of justification. 

3. V/hat is to be shoivn. — But since custom and 
false honor are on the side of retaliation and revenge, 
when the resentment is natural and just; and reasons 
are sometimes offered in justification of revenge in 
these cases ; and since love of our enemies is thought too 
hard a saying to be obeyed : I will show the absolute 
unlawfulness of the former ; the obligatmis lue are un- 
der to the latter ; and then proceed to some reflections, 
luhich may have a more direct and immediate tendency 
to beget in us a right temper of mind toinards those %oho 
have offended us. 

UNLAWFULNESS OF REVENGE. 

4. To be shown from the reason of the thing. — In 
showing the unlawfulness of revenge, it is not my 



154 



PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



present design to examine what is alleged in favor of 
it, from the tyranny of custom and false honor, but only 
to consider the natm'e and reason of the thing itself; 
which ought to have prevented, and ought now to ex- 
tirpate every thing of that kind. 

5. Angei' begets angei\ — First, let us begin vviththe 
supposition of that being innocent, which is pleaded 
for, and v\' hich shall be shown to be altogether vicious, 
the supposition that we were allowed to render evil for 
evil, and see what would be the consequence. Malice 
or resentment towards any man hath plainly a tendency 
to beget the samjc passion in him who is the object of 
it ; and this again increases it in the other. It is of the 
very nature of this vice to propagate itself, not only by 
way of example, which it does in common with other 
vices, but in a peculiar way of its own ; for resentment 
itself, as well as what is done in consequence of it, is 
the object of resentment : hence it comes to pass, that 
the first offence, even when so slight as presently to be 
dropped and forgotten, becomes the occasion of enter- 
ing into a long intercourse of ill offices : neither is it at 
all uncommon to see persons, in this progress of strife 
and variance, change parts ; and him, who was at fii*st 
the injured person, become more injurious and blama- 
ble than the aggressor. 

6. Retaliation begets retaliation, — Put the case then, 
that the lav\^ of retaliation was universally received and 
allowed as an innocent rule of life, by all ; and the ob- 
servance of it thought by many (and then it would 
soon come to be thought by all) a point of honor : this 
supposes every man in private cases to pass sentence 
in his own cause ; and likewise that anger or resent- 
ment is to be the judge. Thus, from the numberless 



FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 



155 



partialities which we all have for ourselves, every one 
would often think himself injured when he was not: 
and in most cases would represent an injury as much 
greater than it really is ; the imagined dignity of the 
person offended would scarce ever fail to magnify the 
offence. And, if bare reta,liation, or returning just the 
mischief received, always begets resentment in the 
person upon whom we retaliate, what would that ex- 
cess do ? 

7. And this without limit. — Add to this, that he like- 
wise has his partialities — there is no going on to re- 
present this scene of rage and madness : it is manifest 
there would be no bounds, nor any end. If the begin- 
ning of strife is as when one letteth out water^ what 
would it come to when allowed this free and unre- 
strained course ? As coals are to burning coals^ or ivood 
to fire; so would these contentious men be to kindle 
strife. And, since the indulgence of revenge hath 
manifestly this tendency, and does actually produce 
these effects in proportion as it is allowed ; a passion 
of so dangerous a nature ought not to be indulged, 
were there no other reason against it. • 

8. Resentment is a painful remedy. — Secondly, it 
hath been shown that the passion of resentment was 
placed in man, upon supposition of, and as a prevention 
or remedy to, irregularity and disorder. Now whether 
it be allowed or not, that the passion itself and the 
gratification of it joined together are painful to the 
malicious person ; it must, however, be so with respect 
to the person towards whom it is exercised, and upon 
whom the revenge is taken. Now, if we consider 
mankind according to that fine allusion of St. Paul, as 
one body, and every one members one of another; it 



156 PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



must be allowed that resentment is, with respect to so- 
ciety, a painful remedy. Thus then the very notion or 
idea of this passion, as a remedy or prevention of evil, 
and as in itself a painful means, plainly shows that it 
ought never to be made use of, but only in order to pro- 
duce some greater good. 

It is to be observed that this argument is not founded 
upon an allusion or simile ; but that it is drawn from 
the very nature of the passion itself, and the end for 
which it was given us. We are obliged to make use 
of words taken from sensible things, to explain what is 
the most remote from them ; and every one sees from 
whence the words prevention and remedy are taken. 
But, if you please, let these words be dropped : the 
thing itself, I suppose, may be expressed without them. 

9. Mankind being- a community. — That mankind is a 
community, that we all stand in a relation to each 
other, that there is a public end and interest of society 
which each particular is obliged to promote, is the sum 
of morals. Consider then the passion of resentment, 
as given to this one body, as given to society. Nothing 
can be more manifest, than that resentment is to be 
considered as a secondary passion, placed in us upon 
supposition, upon account of, and with regard to, 
injury; not, to be sure, to promote and further it, but 
to render it, and the inconveniences and miseries aris- 
ing from it, less and fewer than they would be without 
this passion. It is as manifest that the indulgence of it 
is, with regard to society, a painful means of obtaining 
these ends. Considered in itself, it is very undesirable, 
and what society must very much wish to be without. 
It is in every instance absolutely an evil in itself, be- 
cause it implies producing misery : and consequently 



FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 



157 



must never be indulged or gratified for itself, by any- 
one who considers mankind as a community or family, 
and himself as a member of it. 

10. Can be gratified only by producing misery. — Let 
us now take this in another view. Every natural appe- 
tite, passion, and affection may be gratified in particu- 
lar instances, without being subservient to the particu- 
lar chief end, for v/hich these several principles were 
respectively implanted in our nature. And, if neither 
this end, nor any other moral obligation, be contradicted, 
such gratification is innocent. Thus, I suppose, there 
are cases in which each of these principles, this one of 
resentment excepted, may innocently be gratified, with- 
out being subservient to what is the main end of it: 
that is, though it does not conduce to, yet it may be 
gratified without contradicting, that end, or any other 
obligation. But the gratification of resentment, if it 
be not conducive to the end for which it was given us, 
must necessarily contradict, not only the general obli- 
gation to benevolence, but likewise that particular end 
itself. The end for which it was given is, to prevent or 
remedy injury ; i.e., the misery occasioned by injury; 
I. g., misery itself: and the gratification of it consists in 
producing misery; i. e.j in contradicting the end for 
which it was implanted in our nature. 

11. As revenge., it aims at evil. — This whole reason- 
ing is built upon the difference there is between this 
passion and all others. No other principle, or passion, 
hath for its. end the misery of our fellow-creatures. 
But malice and revenge meditate evil itself: and to do 
mischief, to be the author of misery, is the very thing 
which gratifies the passion : this is what it directly 

u 



158 PAETICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 

tends towards, as its proper design. Other vices event- 
ually do mischief: this alone aims at it as an end. 

12. Revenge not justified by any good effects. — 
Nothing can with reason "be m-ged in justification of 
revenge, from the good effects which the indulgence 
of it was before mentioned * to have upon the affairs 
of the world ; because, though it be a remarkable in- 
stance of the wisdom of Providence to bring good out 
of evil, yet vice is vice to him who is guilty of it. 
" But suppose these good effects are foreseen that is, 
suppose reason in a particular case leads a man the 
same way as passion ? Why then, to be sure, he 
should follow his reason, in this as well as in all other 
cases. So that turn the matter which ever way you 
will, no more can be allowed to this passion, than what 
hath been already.* 

OBLIGATION TO LOVE OUR ENEMIES. 

13. Forgiveness of injuries is love of enemies. — As 
to that love of our enemies, which is commanded ; this 
supposes the general obligation to benevolence or good- 
will towards mankind : and this being supposed, that 
precept is no more than to forgive injuries ; that is, to 
keep clear of those abuses before mentioned : because 
that we have the habitual temper of benevolence is 
taken for granted. 

14. Resentment is consistent with good-ivill. — Re- 
sentment is not inconsistent with good-will; for we 
often see both together in very high degrees : not only 
in parents towards their children, but in cases of friend- 



* Chap. iii. Sect, ii : 21, 23. 



FORGIVENESS OP INJURIES. 



159 



ship and dependence, where there is no natural rela- 
tion. These contrary passions, though they may les- 
sen, do not necessarily destroy each other. We may 
therefore love our enemy, and yet have a resentment 
against him for his injurious behaviour towards us. 
But when this resentment entirely destroys our natural 
benevolence towards him, it is excessive, and becomes 
malice or revenge. The command to prevent its hav- 
ing this effect, to forgive injuries, is the same as to 
love our enemies ; because that love is always sup- 
posed, unless destroyed by resentment. 

15. Injury does not excuse us from it. — "But though 
mankind is the natural object of benevolence, yet may 
it not be lessened upon vice, i.e., injury? " Allowed : 
but if every degree of vice or injury must destroy that 
benevolence, then no man is the object of our love ; for 
no m_an is without faults. 

16. However great it may be, — " But if lower in- 
stances of injury may lessen our benevolence, why 
may not higher, or the highest, destroy it ? " The an- 
swer is obvious. It is not man's being a social crea- 
ture, much less his being a moral agent, from vv^hence 
alone our obligations to good-Vx^ill towards him arise. 
There is an obligation to it prior to either of these, 
arising from his being a sensible creature ; that is, 
capable of happiness or misery. Now this obligation 
cannot be superseded by his moral character.* What 
justifies public executions is, not that the guilt or de- 
merit of the criminal dispenses with the obligation of 

* That is, his capability of right and wrong, and hence of vice and 
injury. As this higher nature in a being is not an indispensable condi- 
tion of our good-will towards him, so its perversion cannot release us 
from the obligation of good-will to him. — Ed. 



160 PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



good-will, neither would this justify any severity ; but, 
that his life is inconsistent with the quiet and happiness 
of the world : that is, a general and more enlarged ob- 
ligation necessarily destroys a particular and more con- 
fined one of the same kind, inconsistent with it. Guilt 
or injury then does not dispense with or supersede the 
duty of love and good-will. 

17. And even when we are the sufferers from iL — 
Neither does that peculiar regard to ourselves, which 
was before allowed to be natural* to mankind, dispense 
with it : because that can no way innocently heighten 
our resentment against those who have been injurious 
to ourselves in particular, any otherwise than as it 
heightens our sense of the injury or guilt; and guilt, 
though in the highest degree, does not, as hath been 
shown, dispense with or supersede the duty of love 
and good-will. 

18. Self-partiality alone denies this. — If all this be 
true, what can a man say who will dispute the reason- 
ableness, or the possibility, of obeying the Divine pre- 
cept we are now considering ? Let him speak out, 
and it must be thus he will speak. " Mankind, a 
creature defective and faulty, is the proper object of 
good-will, whatever his faults are, when they respect 
others ; but not when they respect me myself." That 
men should be affected in this manner, and act accord- 
ingly, is to be accounted for like other vices ; but to 
assert that it oug-ht, and must be thus, is self-partiality 
possessed of the very understanding. 

19. To love enemies is not rant. — Thus love to our 
enemies, and those who have been injurious to us, is so 



* Chap. iii. Sect, ii., 10. 



FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 



161 



far from being a rant, as it has been profanely called, 
that it is in truth the law of our nature, and what 
every one must see and own, who is not quite blinded 
with self-love. 

20. Degree of love to enemies. — From hence it is 
easy to see, what is the degree in which we are com- 
manded to love our enemies, or those who have been 
injurious to us. It were well if it could as easily be 
reduced to practice. It cannot be imagined, that we 
are required to love them with any peculiar kind of 
affection. But suppose the person injured to have a 
due natural sense of the injury, and no more; he ought 
to be affected towards the injurious person in the same 
way any good men, uninterested in the case, would be; 
if they had the same just sense, which we have sup- 
posed the injured person to have, of the fault : after 
which there will yet remain real good-will towards the 
offender. 

21. All this is reasonable. — Now what is there in all 
this, which should be thought impracticable ? I am 
sure there is nothing in it unreasonable. It is indeed 
no more than that we should not indulge a passion, 
which, if generally indulged, would propagate itself so 
as almost to lay waste the world : that we should sup- 
press that partial, that false self-love, which is the weak- 
ness of our nature : that uneasiness and misery should 
not be produced, without any good purpose to be 
served by it : and that we should not be affected towards 
persons differently from what their nature and character 
require. 

14* 



162 PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 

SECTIOJT IV. 
THE LOVE OF OUR, NEIGHBOR * 

1. Different senses of the precept. — This precept, in 
its first delivery by our Saviour, is thus introduced: 
Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heai% 
with all thy soul, and with all thy strength; and thy 
neighbor as thyself. These very different manners of 
expression do not lead our thoughts to the same meas- 
ure or degree of love common to both objects ; but to 
one, peculiar to each. Supposing then, which is to be 
supposed, a distinct meaning and propriety in the 
words, as thyself; the precept we are considering will 
admit of any of these senses : that we bear the same 
kind of affection to our neighbor as we do to ourselves ; 
or, that the love we bear to our neighbor should have 
some certain proportion or other to self-love : or, lastly, 
that it should bear the particular proportion of equality, 
that it he in the same degree. 

2. The love must be of the same kind. — First, the 
precepc may be understood as requiring only that we 
have the sa^ne kind of affection to our fellow-creatures 
as to ourselves : that, as every man has the principle of 
self-love, which disposes him to avoid misery, and con- 
sult his own happiness, so we should cultivate the 
afiection of good-will to our neighbor, and that it 
should influence us to have the same kind of regard to 
him. This at least must be commanded : and this will 
not only prevent our being injurious to him, but will 
also put us upon promoting his good. There are bless- 

* Fart of the twelfth sermon at the Rolls ; preached from the text, — 
"And if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in. 
this saying, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." — Eom. 
13: 9. 



LOVE OP OUR NEIGHBOR. 



163 



ings in life which we share in common v/ith others ; 
peace, plenty, freedom, healthful seasons. Bat real 
benevolence to our fellovz-creatures would give us the 
notion of a common interest in a stricter sense : for in 
the degree we love another, his interest, his joys and 
sorrows, are our own. It is from self-love that we form 
the notion of private good, and consider it as our own : 
love of our neighbor would teach us thus to appropri- 
ate to ourselves his good and welfare ; to consider our- 
selves as having a real share in his happiness. Thus 
the principle of benevolence would be an advocate 
within our own breasts, to take care of the interests of 
our fellow-creatures in all the interfering and competi- 
tions which cannot but be, from the imperfection of 
our nature, and the state we are in. It would likewise, 
in some measure, lessen that interfering; and hinder 
men from forming so strong a notion of private good, 
exclusive of the good of others, as we commonly do. 
Thus, as the private affection makes us in a peculiar 
manner sensible of humanity, justice, or injustice, when 
exercised towards ourselves ; love of our neighbor 
would give us the same kind of sensibility in his be- 
half. This would be the greatest security of our uni- 
form obedience to that most equitable rule ; Wliatso- 
ever ye would that men should do to you^ do ye even so 
to them. 

3. This is a right temper. — All this is, indeed, no 
more than that we should have a real love to our 
neighbor : but then, which is to be observed, the words 
as thyself^ express this in the most distinct manner, and 
determine the precept to relate to the affection itself. 
The advantage which this principle of benevolence has 
over other remote considerations is, that it is itself the 



164 PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



temper of virtue ; and likewise, that it is the chief, nay, 
the only effectual security of our performing the 
several offices of kindness we owe to our fellow-crea- 
tures. When from distant considerations men resolve 
upon any thing to which they have no liking, or per- 
haps an averseness, they are perpetually finding out 
evasions and excuses ; which need never be wanting if 
people look for them: and they equivocate with them- 
selves in the plainest cases in the world. This may be 
in respect to single determinate acts of virtue : but it 
comes in much more where the obligation is to a gen- 
eral course of behavior ; and most of all, if it be such 
as cannot be reduced to fixed determinate rules. This 
observation may account for the diversity of the ex- 
pression in that known passage of the prophet Micah : 
to do justly^ and to love mercy. A man's heart must be 
formed to humanity and benevolence, he must love 
mercy ^ otherwise he will not act mercifully in any set- 
tled course of behavior. As consideration of the future 
sanctions of religion is our only security of persevering 
in our duty, in cases of great temptations : so to get 
our heart and temper formed to a love and liking of 
what is good, is absolutely necessary in order to our 
behaving rightly in the familiar and daily intercourses 
amongst mankind. 

4. Our love of others must bear a certain proportion 
to self-love. — Secondly, the precept before us may be 
understood to require that we love our neighbor in 
some certain proportion or other, according as we love 
ourselves. And, indeed, a man's character can not be 
determined by the love he bears to his neighbor, con- 
sidered absolutely : but the proportion which this bears 
to self-love, whether it be attended to or not, is the 



LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOR. 



165 



chief thing which forms the character, and influences 
the actions. For, as the form of the body is a compo- 
sition of various parts ; so likewise our inward struc- 
ture is not simple or uniform, but a composition of 
various passions, appetites, affections, together with 
rationality ; including in this last both the discernment 
of what is right, and a disposition to regulate ourselves 
by it. There is greater variety of parts in what we 
call a character, than there are features in a face ; and 
the morality of that is no more determined by one part 
than the beauty or deformity of this is by one single 
feature : each is to be judged of by all the parts or fea- 
tures, not taken singly, but together. In the inward 
frame the various passions, appetites, affections, stand 
in different respects to each other. The principles in 
our mind may be contradictory, or checks and allays 
only, or incentives and assistants to each other. And 
principles, which in their nature have no kind of con- 
trariety or affinity, may yet accidentally be each other's 
allays or incentives. 

5. The proportion of affections to he considered. — 
From hence it comes to pass, that though we were able 
to look into the inward contexture of the heart, and see 
with the greatest exactness in what degree any one 
principle is in a particular man ; we could not from 
thence determine how far that principle would go 
towards forming the character, or what influence it 
would have upon the actions, unless we could likewise 
discern what other principles prevailed in him, and see 
the proportion which that one bears to the others. 
Thus, though two men should have the affection of 
compassion in the same degree exactly, yet one may 
have the principle of resentment, or of ambition, so 



166 



PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



strong in him, as to prevail over that of compassion, 
and prevent its having any influence upon his actions ; 
so that he may deserve the character of a hard or cruel 
man : whereas the other having compassion in just the 
same degree only, yet having resentment or ambition 
in a lower degree, his compassion may prevail over 
them, so as to influence his actions, and to denominate 
his temper compassionate. So that, how strange soever 
it may appear to people who do not attend to the thing, 
yet it is quite manifest, that, when we say one man is 
more resenting or compassionate than another, this does 
not necessarily imply that one has the principle of re- 
sentment or of compassion stronger than the other. 
For if the proportion which resentment or compassion 
bears to other inward principles is greater in one than 
in the other ; this is itself sufficient to denominate one 
more resenting or compassionate than the other. 

6. As of self-love and benevolence. — Further, the 
whole system, as I may speak, of affections (including 
rationality), which constitute the heart, as this word is 
used in Scripture and on moral subjects, are each and 
all of them stronger in some than in others. Now the 
proportion which the two general affections, benevo- 
lence and self-love, bear to each other, according to this 
interpretation of the text, denominates men's character 
as to virtue. Suppose then one man to have the prin- 
ciple of benevolence in an higher degree than another : 
it will not follow from hence, that his general temper, 
or character, or actions, will be more benevolent than 
the other's. For he may have self-love in such a de- 
gi'ee as quite to prevail over benevolence ; so that it 
may have no influence at all upon his actions ; whereas 
benevolence in the other person, though in a lower de- 



LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOR. 



167 



gree, may yet be the strongest principle in his heart ; 
and strong enough to be the guide of his actions, so as 
to denominate him a good and virtuous man. The 
case is here as in scales : it is not one weight, consid- 
ered in itself, which determines whether the scale shall 
ascend or descend ; but this depends upon the propor- 
tion which that one weight hath to the other. 

7. Which is implied in the text. — It being thus man- 
ifest that the influence which benevolence has upon 
our actions, and how far it goes towards forming our 
character, is not determined by the degree itself of this 
principle in our mind ; but by the proportion it has to 
self-love and other principles : a comparison also being 
made in the text between self-love and the love of our 
neighbor; these joint considerations afforded sufficient 
occasion for treating here of that proportion : it plainly 
is implied in the precept, though it should be ques- 
tioned, whether it be the exact meaning of the words, 
as thyself. 

8. The due proportion to he determined in conduct. — 
Love of our neighbor then must bear some proportion 
to self-love, and virtue to be sure consists in the due 
proportion. What this due proportion is, whether as a 
principle in the mind, or as exerted in actions, can be 

\ judged of only from our nature and condition in this 
world. Of the degree in which affections and the 
principles of action, considered in themselves, prevail, 
we have no measure : let us then proceed to the course 
of behavior, the actions they produce. 

9. Provision for ourselves to he Umited. — Both our 
nature and condition require that each particular man 
should make particular provision for himself: and the 
inquiry, what proportion benevolence should have to 



168 PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



self-love when brought down to practice, will be, what 
is a competent care and provision for ourselves. And 
how certain soever it be, that each man must deter- 
mine this for himself; and how ridiculous soever 
it v/ould be, for any to attempt to determine it for 
another : yet it is to be observed that the proportion 
is real ; and that a competent provision has a bound ; 
and that it cannot be all which we can possibly get 
and keep within our grasp without legal injustice. 
Mankind almost universally bring in vanity, supplies 
for what is called a life of pleasure, covetousness, or 
imaginary notions of superiority over others, to deter- 
mine this question ; but every one who desires to act a 
proper part in society, would do well to consider, how 
far any of them come in to determine it, in the way of 
moral consideration. All that can be said is, suppos- 
ing, what, as the world goes, is so much to be supposed 
that it is scarce to be mentioned, that persons do not 
neglect what they really owe to themselves ; the more 
of their care and thought and of their fortune they 
employ in doing good to their fellow-creatures, the 
nearer they come up to the law of perfection, Thou 
shall love thy neighbor as thyself. 

10. Suppose our affection for ourselves and others^ 
equal. — Thirdly, If the words, as thyself were to be 
understood of an equality of affection ; it would not 
be attended with those consequences which perhaps 
may be thought to follow from it. Suppose a person 
to have the same settled regard to others, as to him- 
self ; that in every deliberate scheme or pursuit he took 
their interest into the account in the same degree as 
his own, so far as an equality of affection would pro- 
duce this ; yet he would in fact, and ought to be, much 



LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOR. 



169 



more taken up and employed about himself, and his 
own concerns, than about others, and their interests. 
For, besides the one common affection toward himself 
and his neighbor, he would have several other particu- 
lar affections, passions, appetites, which he could not 
possibly feel in common both for himself and others ; 
now these sensations themselves very much employ 
us ; and have perhaps as great influence as self-love. 
So far indeed as self-love and cool reflection upon 
what is for our interest, would set us on work to gain 
a supply of our own several wants ; so far the love of 
our neighbor would make us do the same for him ; but 
the degree in which we are put upon seeking and mak- 
ing use of the means of gratification, by the feeling 
of those affections, appetites, and passions^ must neces- 
sarily be peculiar to ourselves. 

11. There are many affections tvliich ive cannot feel 
for others. — That there are particular passions (sup- 
pose shame, resentment), v/hich men seem to have, and 
feel in common, both for themselves and others, makes 
no alteration in respect to those passions and appetites 
which cannot possibly be thus felt in common. From 
hence (and perhaps more things of the like kind might 
be mentioned) it follows, that though there were an 
equality of affection to both, yet regard to ourselves 
would be more prevalent than attention to the concerns 
of others. 

12. We are intrusted vnth ourselves. — And from 
moral considerations it ought to be so, supposing still 
the equality of affection commanded : because we are 
in a peculiar manner, as I may speak, intrusted with 
ourselves ; and therefore care of our own interests, as 
well as of our conduct, particularly belongs to us. 



170 PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



13. JVe have a constant jjerceptipn of our ovjn interest. 

— To these things must be added, that moral obliga- 
tions can extend no fm'ther than to natm-al possibilities. 
Now we have a perception of our own interests, like 
consciousness of our own existence, which we always 
carry about with us; and which, in its continuation, 
kind, and degree, seems impossible to be felt in respect 
to the interests of others. 

14. Hence there is m danger of neglecting ourselves. 

— From all these things it fully appears, that though 
we were to love our neighbor in the same degi-ee as 
we love ourselves, so far as this is possible ; yet the 
care of ourselves, of the individual, would not be neg- 
lected ; the apprehended danger of which seems to be 
the only objection against understanding the precept 
in this strict sense. 

15. Benevolence the ivhole of virtue. — I proceed to 
consider lastly, what is affirmed of the precept now 
explained, that it comprehends in it all others ; i.e., 
that to love our neis^hbor as om-selves includes in it aU 
virtues. 

Now the way in which every maxim of conduct or 
general speculative assertion, when it is to be explained 
at large, should be treated, is, to show what are the 
particular truths which were designed to be compre- 
hended under such a general observation, how far it is 
strictly true ; and then the limitations, restrictions, and 
exceptions, if there be exceptions, with which it is to 
be understood. But it is only the former of these; 
namely, how far the assertion in the text holds, and 
the ground of the pre-eminence assigned to the precept 
of it, which in strictness comes into our consideration. 

16. But is, of course, under the direction of reason. — 



LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOR. 



171 



However, in almost every thing that is said, there is 
somewhat to be understood beyond what is explicitly 
laid down, and which we of course supply ; somewhat, 
I mean, which would not be commonly called a re- 
striction, or limitation. Thus, when benevolence is 
said to be the sum of virtue, it is not spol^en of as a 
blind propension, but as a principle in reasonable 
creatures, and so to be directed by their reason : for 
reason and reflection come into our notion of a moral 
agent. And that will lead us to consider distant con- 
sequences, as well as the immediate tendency of an 
action : it will teach us, that the care of some persons, 
suppose children and families, is particularly com- 
mitted to our charge by Nature and Providence ; as 
also that there are other circumstances, suppose friend- 
ship or former obligations, which require that we do 
good to some, preferably to others. Reason, considered 
merely as subservient to benevolence, as assisting to 
produce the greatest good, will teach us to have par- 
ticular regard to these relations and circumstances ; be- 
cause it is plainly for the good of the world that they 
should be res^arded. And as there are numberless 
cases, in which, notwithstanding appearances, we are 
not competent judges, whether a particular action will 
upon the whole do good or harm ; reason in the same 
way will teach us to be cautious how we act in these 
cases of uncertainty. It will suggest to our consider- 
ation, which is the safer side ; how liable we are to be 
led WTong by passion and private interest ; and what 
regard is due to laws, and the judgment of mankind. 
All these things must come into consideration, were it 
only in order to determine which way of acting is likely 
to produce the greatest good. Thus, upon supposition 



172 PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 

that it were in the strictest sense true, without limita- 
tion, that benevolence includes in it all virtues ; yet 
reason must come in as its guide and director, in order 
to attain its own end, the end of benevolence, the 
greatest public good. Reason then being thus in- 
cluded, let us nov7 consider the truth of the assertion 
itself. 

17. Benevolence j^romotes the happiness of others. — 
First, It is manifest that nothing can be of consequence 
to mankind or any creature, but happiness. This then 
is all which any person can, in strictness of speaking, 
be said to have a right to. V/ e can therefore oiue no 
man any things but only to further and promote his 
happiness, according to our abilities. And therefore a 
disposition and endeavor to do good to all with whom 
we have to do, in the degree and manner which the 
different relations we stand in to them require, is a dis- 
charge of all the obligations we are under to them. 

18. Makes us attend to our social relations. — As 
human nature is not one simple uniform thing, but a 
composition of various parts, body, spirit, appetites, par- 
ticular passions, and affections : for each of which rea- 
sonable self-love would lead men to have due regard, 
and make suitable provision: so society consists of 
various parts, to which we stand in different respects 
and relations; and just benevolence would as surely 
lead us to have due regard to each of these, and behave 
as the respective relations require. Keasonable good- 
will, and right behavior towards our fellow-creatures, 
are in a manner the same : only that the former ex- 
presseth the principle as it is in the mind; the latter, 
the principle as it were become external, i.e.^ exerted in 
actions. 



LOVE OP OUR NEIGHBOR. 



173 



19. May promote temperance^ etc. — And so far as 
temperance, * sobriety, and moderation in sensual plea- 
sm-es, and the contrary vices, have any respect to our 
fellow-creatures, any influence upon their quiet, welfare, 
and happiness ; as they always have a real, and often 
a near influence upon it ; so far it is manifest those 
virtues may be produced by the love of our neighbor, 
and that the contrary vices would be prevented by it. 
Indeed if men's regard to themselves will not restrain 
them from excess ; it may be thought little probable, 
that their love to others wiM be sufficient : but the rea- 
son is, that their love to others is not, any more than 
their regard to themselves, just, and in its due degree. 
There are, however, manifest instances of persons kept 
sober and temperate from regard to their affairs, and 
the welfare of those who depend upon them. And it 
is obvious to every one, that habitual excess, a disso- 
lute course of life, implies a general neglect of the du- 
ties we owe towards our friends, our families, and our 
country. 

20. Hence all virtue may he traced to benevolence. — 
From hence it is manifest that the common virtues, 
and the common vices of mankind, may be traced up 
to benevolence, or the want of it. And this entitles 
the precept. Thou shall love thy neighbor as thyself^ to 
the pre-eminence given to it ; and is a justification of 
the Apostle's assertion, that all other commandments 
are comprehended in it ; whatever cautions and restric- 
tions f there are, which might require to be considered, 

* Temperance is used here in the generic sense of self-control. In 
this sense it constitutes one of the four cardinal virtues ; which arc ; — 
Temperance, Veracity, Justice, and Benevolence. — Ed. 

t For instance ; as ayc are not competent judges, what is upon the 



174 



PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



if we were to state particularly and at length, what is 
vii'tue and right behavior in mankind. But, 

21. Benevolence includes all that is good. — Sec- 
ondly, It might be added, that in a higher and more 
general way of consideration, leaving out the particu- 
lar nature of creatures, and the particular circumstances 
in which they are placed, benevolence seems in the 

whole for the good of the world, there may be other immediate ends ap- 
pointed us to pursue, besides that one of doing good, or producing hap- 
piness. Though the good of the creation be the ^nly end of the Author 
of it, yet he may have laid us uncfer particular obligations, which we 
may discern and feel ourselves under, quite distinct from a perception, 
that the observance or violation of them is for the happiness or misery 
of our fellow-creatures. And this is in fact the case. 

For there are certain dispositions of mind, and certain actions, which 
are in themselves approved or disapproved by mankind, abstracted from 
the consideration of their tendency to the happiness or misery of the 
world : approved or disapproved by reflection, by that principle within, 
which is the guide of life, the judge of right and Avrong. Numberless 
instances of this kind might be mentioned. There are pieces of treach- 
ery, which in themselves appear base and detestable to every one. There 
are actions, which perhaps can scarce have any other general name given 
them than indecencies, which yet are odious and shocking to liuman na- 
ture. There is such a thing as meanness, a little mind ; which, as it is 
quite distinct from incapacity, so it raises a dislike and disapprobation 
quite diiferent from that contempt, which men are too apt to have, of 
mere folly. 

On the other hand ; what we cnll greatness of mind is the object of 
another sort of approbation, than superior understanding. Fidelity, 
honor, strict justice, are themselves approved in the highest degree, ab- 
stracted from the consideration of their tendency. 

Kow, whether it be thought that each of these are connected with be- 
nevolence in our nature, and so may be considered as the same thing 
with it ; or whether some of them be thought an inferior kind of virtues 
and vices, somewhat like natural beauties and deformities ; or lastly, 
plain exceptions to the general rule ; thus much however is certain, that 
the things now instanced in, and numberless others, arc approved or dis- 
approved by mankind in general, in quite another view than as condu-^ 
cive to the happiness or misery of the world. 



LOVE OF OUR XEIGHBOK. 



175 



strictest sense to include in it all that is good and 
worthy ; all that is good, which we have any distinct 
particular notion of. "We have no clear conception 
of any positive moral attribute in the Supreme Being, 
but what m.ay be resolved up into goodness. And, if 
we consider a reasonable creature or moral agent, 
without regard to the particular relations and circum- 
stances in which he is placed ; we cannot conceive 
any thing else to come in towards determining whether 
he is to be ranked in a higher or lower class of virtuous 
beings, but the higher or lower degree in which that 
principle, and what is manifestly connected with it, 
prevail in him. 

22. Not excepting piety even. — That which we more 
strictly call piety, or the love of God, and which is an 
essential part of a right temper, some may perhaps im- 
agine no way connected with benevolence : yet surely 
they must be connected, if there be indeed in being an 
, object infinitely good. Human nature is so consti- 
tuted, that every good affection implies the love of it- 
self ; z.e., becomes the object of a new affection in the 
same person. Thus, to be righteous, implies in it the 
love of righteousness ; to be benevolent, the love of 
benevolence ; to be good, the love of goodness ; whether 
this righteousness, benevolence, or goodness, be viewed 
as in our own mnnd, or in another's : and the love of 
God as a being perfectly good, is the love of perfect 
goodness contemplated in a being or person. Thus 
morality and religion, virtue and piety, will at last 
necessarily coincide, run up into one and the same 
point, and love will be in all senses the end of the com- 
mandment 



176 



PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



SECTION V. 
THE LOVE OF GOD. * 

1. Affections rest in their appropriate objects as rea- 
son does in truth. — As mankind have a faculty by 
which they discern speculative truth ; so we have 
various affections towards external objects. Under- 
standing and temper, reason and affection, are as dis- 
tinct ideas, as reason and hunger ; and one would think 
could no more be confounded. It is by reason that we 
get the ideas of several objects of our affections : but 
in these cases reason and affection are no more the 
same than sight of a particular object, and the pleasure 
or uneasiness consequent thereupon, are the same. 
Now, as reason tends to and rests in the discernment 
of truth, the object of it ; so the very nature of affec- 
tion consists in tending towards, and resting in, its ob- 
jects as an end. 

2. When a thing is done not for itself but for some- 
thing else^ the latter is the object of the affection. — We 
do indeed often in common language say, that things 
are loved, desired, esteemed, not for themselves, but for 
somewhat further, somewhat out of and beyond them : 
yet, in these cases, whoever will attend will see that 
these things are not in reality the objects of the affec- 
tions, i. e., are not loved, desired, esteemed, but the 
somewhat further and beyond them. If we have no 
affections which rest in what are called their objects, 
then what is called affection, love, desire, hope, in hu- 



* Consisting of portions of the thirteenth and fourteenth sermons at 
the Rolls ; preached from the text, — " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God 
with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind." — 
Matt. 22 ; 37. 



THE LOVE OP GOD. 



177 



man nature, is only an uneasiness in being at rest ; an 
unquiet disposition to action, progress, pursuit, without 
end or meaning. But if there be any such thing as 
delight in the company of one person rather than of 
another ; whether in the way of friendship, or mirth and 
entertainment, it is all one, if it be without respect to 
fortune, honor, or increasing our stores of knowledge, 
or any thing beyond the present time ; here is an in- 
stance Df an affection absolutely resting in its objects 
as its end, and being gratified in the same way as the 
appetite of hunger is satisfied with food. 

3. The advantage of an affection is in its exercise. — 
Yet nothing is more common than to hear it asked, 
what advantage a man hath in such a course, suppose 
of study, particular friendships, or in any other ; 
nothing, I say, is more common than to hear such a 
question put in a way which supposes no gain, advan- 
tage, or interest, but as a means to somewhat further : 
and if so, then there is no such thing at all as real in- 
terest, gain, or advantage. This is the same absurdity 
with respect to life, as infinite series of effects without 
a cause is in speculation. The gain, advantage, or in- 
terest consists in the delight itself, arising from such a 
faculty's having its object : neither is there any such 
thing as happiness or enjoyment, but what arises from 
hence. The pleasures of hope and of reflection are 
not exceptions: the former being only this happiness 
anticipated; the latter, the same happiq^ss enjoyed 
over again after its time. And even the general ex- 
pectation of future happiness can afford satisfaction 
only as it is a present object to the principle of self-love. 

4. If in the present life our happiness is in the pursuit^ 
it must be m the possession in the life to come. — It was 



178 PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 

doubtless intended that life should be very much a pur- 
suit to the gross of mankind. But this is carried so 
much further than is reasonable, that what gives imme- 
diate satisfaction, i. e., om* present interest, is scarce 
considered as our interest at all. It is inventions which 
have only a remote tendency towards enjoyment, per- 
haps but a rem^ote tendency towards gaining the means 
only of enjoyment, which are chiefly spoken of as use- 
ful to the v/orld. And though this way of thinking 
were just wdth respect to the imperfect state we are 
now in, v/here we knoAV so little of satisfaction without 
satiety ; yet it must be guarded against when we are 
considering the happiness of a state of perfection ; 
which happiness being enjoyment, and not hope, 
must necessarily consist in this, that our affections have 
their objects, and rest in those objects as an end, i. e., 
be satisfied with them. This will further appear in the 
sequel of this discourse. 

5. Being good implies the love of goodness. — Of the 
several affections, or inward sensations, which particu- 
lar objects excite in man, there are some, the having of 
which implies the love of them, when they are reflected 
upon. * This cannot be said of all our affections, 
principles, and motives of action. It were ridiculous 
to assert that a man upon reflection hath the same kind 
of approbation of the appetite of hunger, or the pas- 
sion of fear, as he hath of good-will to his fellow-crea- 



* St. Austin observes, Amor ipse ordinate amandus est, quo bene 
araatur qnod amandum est, ut sit in nobis virtus qua vivitur bene. i. e. 
The affection which we rightlij have for ivhat is lovely, mitsi (ordinate justly, 
in due manner and proportion) become the object of a new affection, or be 
itself beloved, in order to our being endued ivith that virtue luhich is the princi- 
ple of a good life. Civ. Dei. 1. xv. c. 22. 



THE LOVE 0? GOD. 



179 



tures. To be a just, a good, a righteous man, plainly 
carries with it a peculiar affection to our love of justice, 
goodness, righteousness, when these principles are the 
objects of contemplation. Now if a man approves of, 
or hath an affection to, any principle in and for itself, 
incidental things allowed for, it will be the same 
whether he views it in his own mind or in another ; in 
himself or in his neighbor. This is the account of our 
approbation of, our m^oral love and affection to good 
characters ; which cannot but be in those who have any 
degrees of real goodness in themselves, and who dis- 
cern and take notice of the same principle in others. 

6. We may conceive and love ideal goodness. — From 
observation of what passes within ourselves, om* own 
actions, and the behavior of others, the m.ind may 
carry on its reflections as far as it pleases ; much be- 
yond what we experience in ourselves, or discern in our 
fellow-creatures. It may go on and consider goodness 
asl^ecome an uniform continued principle of action, as 
conducted by reason, and forming a temper and char- 
acter absolutely good and perfect, which is in a higher 
sense excellent, and proportionably the object of love 
and approbation. 

7. Suppose such a human character. — Let us then 
suppose a creature perfect according to his created na- 
ture : let his form be hum.an, and his capacities no 
more than equal to those of the chief of men : good- 
ness shall be his proper character, with wisdom to di- 
rect it, and power within some certain determined 
sphere of action to exert it : but goodness must be the 
simple actuating principle within him ; this being the 
moral quality which is amiable, or the immediate ob- 
ject of love as distinct from other affections of appro- 



180 



PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



bation. Here then is a finite object for our mind to 
tend towards, to exercise itself upon : a creature, per- 
fect according to his capacity, fixed, steady, equally un- 
moved by weak pity or more weak fury and resent- 
ment ; forming the justest scheme of conduct : going 
on undisturbed in the elecution of it, through the sev- 
eral methods of severity and reward, towards his end, 
namely, the general happiness of ajll with whom he 
hath to do, as in itself right and valuable. 

8. Such a character rmst excite our love. — This 
character, though uniform in itself, in its principle, yet 
exerting itself in different ways, or considered in differ- 
ent views, may by its appearing variety move different 
affections. Thus the severity of justice would not af- 
fect us in the same way as an act of mercy : the ad- 
ventitious qualities of wisdom and power may be 
considered in themselves : and even the strength of 
mind, which this immovable goodness supposes, may 
likewise be viewed as an object of contemplation, dis- 
tinct from the goodness itself. Superior excellence of 
any kind, as well as superior wisdom and power, is the 
object of awe and reverence to all creatures, whatever 
their moral character be: but so far as creatures of 
the lowest rank were good, so far the view of this char- 
acter, as simply good, must appear amiable to them, 
be the object of, or beget, love. 

9. Especially if considered as friendly to us. — Fur- 
ther, suppose we were conscious, that this superior per- 
son so far approved of us, that we had nothing servilely 
to fear from him ; that he was really our friend, and 
kind and good to us in particular, as he had occasion- 
ally intercourse with us : we must be other creatures 
than we are, or we could not but feel the same kind of 



THE LOYE OF GOD. 



181 



satisfaction and enjoyment (whatever would be the de- 
gree of it) from this higher acquaintance and friend- 
ship, as we feel from common ones ; the intercom'se 
being real, and the persons equally present, in both 
cases. We should have a more ardent desire to be 
approved by his better judgment, and a satisfaction in 
\ that approbation of the same sort with what would be 
felt in respect to common persons, or be wought in us 
j by their presence. 

10. Still more if considered our guardian and gov- 
t ernor. — Let us now raise the character, and suppose 
this creature, for we are still going on with the supposi- 
tion of a creature, our proper guardian and governor ; 
that we were in a progress of being towards somewhat 
fmther ; and that his scheme of government was too 
vast for our capacities to comprehend : remembering 
; still that he is perfectly good, and our friend as well as 
I our governor. Wisdom, power, goodness, accidentally 
viewed anywhere, would inspire reverence, awe, love : 
and as these affections would be raised in higher or 
lower degrees, in proportion as we had occasionally 
more or less intercourse with the creature endued with 
those qualities; so this further consideration and knovv^- 
ledge, that he was our proper guardian and governor, 
would much more bring these objects and qualities 
home to ourselves ; teach us they had a greater respect 
to us in particular, that we had an higher interest in 
that wisdom and power and goodness. We should, 
with joy, gratitude, reverence, love, trust, and depend- 
ence, appropriate the character, as what vv^e had a right 
in; and jxiake our boast in such our relation to it. 
And the conclusion of the whole would be, that Vv^e 
should refer ourselves implicitly to liim, and cast our- 

16 



182 



PAETICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



selves entirely upon him. As the whole attention of 
life should be to obey his commands ; so the highest 
enjoyment of it must arise from the contemplation of 
this character, and our relation to it, from a conscious- 
ness of his favor and approbation, and from the exer- 
cise of those affections towards him which could not 
but be raised from his presence. A Being who hath 
these attributes, who stands in this relation, and is thus 
sensibly present to the mind, must necessarily be the 
object of these affections : there is as real a coitc- 
spondence between them, as between the lowest appe- 
tite of sense and its object. 

11. That this Being is God, and invisible, alters not 
the case. — That this Being is not a creature, but the 
Almighty God ; that he is of infinite power and wis- 
dom and goodness, does not render him less the object 
of reverence and love, than he would be if he had those 
attributes only in a limited degree. The Being who 
made us, and upon whom we entirely depend, is the 
object of some regards. He hath given us certain af- 
fections of mind, which correspond to wisdom, power, 
goodness ; i.e., which are raised upon view of those 
qualities. If then he be really wise, powerful, good ; 
he is the natural object of those affections, which he 
hath endued us with, and which correspond to those 
attributes. That he is infinite in power, perfect in wis- 
dom and goodness, makes no alteration, but only that 
he is the object of those affections raised to the highest 
pitch. He is not indeed to be discerned by any of our 
senses. I go fonvard, but he is not there ; and back- 
ward, but I cannot perceive him : on the left hand, 
where he doth ivork, but I cannot behold him : he hideth 
himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him, O 



THE LOYE OF GOD. 



183 



that I knew where I might find him ! that I might come 
even to his seat I But is he then afar off ? does he 
not fill heaven and earth with his presence ? The pres- 
ence of our fellow-creatures affects our senses, and our 
senses give us the knowledge of their presence ; which 
hath different kinds of influence upon us ; love, joy, 
sorrow, restraint, encouragement, reverence. However, 
this influence is not immediately from our senses, but 
from that knowledge. Thus suppose a person neither 
to see nor hear another, not to know by any of his 
senses, but yet certainly to know, that another was 
with him ; this knowledge might, and in many cases 
would, have one or more of the effects before men- 
tioned. 

12. It is natural that lue should be affected by such a 
presence. — It is therefore not only reasonable, but also 
natural, to be affected ' wdth a presence, though it be 
not the object of oui senses : whether it be, or be not, 
is merely an accidental circumstance, which needs not 
come into consideration : it is the certainty that he is 
with us, and we with him, which hath the influence. 
"W e consider persons then as present, not only when 
they are within reach of our senses, but also when we 
are assured by any other means that they are within 
such a nearness; nay, if they are not, we can recall them 
to our mind, and be moved towards them as present : 
and must He, who is so much more intimately with us, 
that in him ive live and move and have our beings be 
thought too distant to be the object of our affections? 
We own and feel the force of amiable and worthy 
qualities in our fellow-creatui-es : and can we be insen- 



* Job, 23. 



184 PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



sible to the contemplation of perfect goodness ? Do 
we reverence the shadows of greatness here below, are 
we solicitous about honor and esteem and the opinion 
of the world: and shall we not feel the same with 
respect to him, whose are wisdom and power in their 
original, who is the God of judgment by ivhom actions 
are weighed ? Thus love, reverence, desire of esteem, 
every faculty, every affection, tends towards, and is 
employed about its respective object, in common cases : 
and must the exercise of them be suspended with re- 
gard to him alone, who is an object, an infinitely more 
than adequate object, to our most exalted faculties ; 
him, of tvhom^ and through whom^ and to whom are all 
things ? 

13. Religion does not demand new affections^ but the 
direction of luhat loe already have, — As we cannot re- 
move from this earth, or change our general business 
on it, so neither can we alter our real nature. There- 
fore no exercise of the mind can be recommended, but 
only the exercise of those faculties you are conscious 
of. Keligion does not demand new affections, but only 
claims the direction of those you already have, those 
affections you daily feel ; though unhappily confined to 
objects, not altogether unsuitable, but altogether unequal 
to them. e only represent to you the higher, the 
adequate objects of those very faculties and affections. 
Let the man of ambition go on still to consider dis- 
grace as the greatest evil ; honor as his chief good. 
But disgrace in whose estimation ? Honor in whose 
judgment? This is the only question. If shame, and 
delight in esteem, be spolcen of as real, as any settled 
ground of pain or pleasure ; both these must be in pro- 
portion to the supposed wisdom and worth of him, by 



THE LOVE OF GOD. 



185 



whom we are contemned or esteemed. Must it then 
be thought enthusiastical to speak of a sensibility of 
this sort, which shall have respect to an unerring judg- 
ment, to infinite wisdom ; when we are assured this 
unerring judgment, this infinite wisdom, does observe 
upon our actions ? 

14. It is thus with the love of God. — It is the same 
with respect to the love of God in the strictest and 
most confined sense. "We only offer and represent the 
highest object of an affection, supposed already in your 
mind. Some degree of goodness must be previously 
supposed : this always implies the love of itself, an af- 
fection to goodness : the highest, the adequate object 
of this affection is, perfect goodness : which therefore 
we are to love tuith all our heart.) with all our soul, and 
with all our strength. 

15. Nor do lue thus forget our own interest. — " Must 
we then, forgetting our own interest, as it were go out 
of ourselves, and love God for his own sake ? " No 
more forget your own interest, no more go out of your- 
selves, than when you prefer one place, one prospect, 
the conversation of one man to that of another. Does 
not every affection necessarily imply that the object of 
it be itself loved? If it be not, it is not the object of 
the affection. You may and ought if you can, but it 
is a great mistake to think you can love or fear or hate 
any thing, from consideration that such love or fear or 
hatred may be a means of obtaining good or avoiding 
evil. But the question, whether we ought to love God 
for his sake or for our own, being a mere mistake in 
language ; the real question, which this is mistaken for 
will, I suppose, be answered by observing that the 
goodness of God already exercised towards us, our pres- 



186 



PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



ent dependence upon him, and our expectation of future 
benefits, ought, and have a natural tendency, to beget 
in us the affection of gratitude, and greater love towards 
him, than the same goodness exercised towards others : 
■^vere it only for this reason, that every affection is moved 
in proportion to the sense we have of the object of it; 
and we cannot but have a more lively sense of good- 
ness, when exercised towards ourselves, than when ex- 
ercised towards others.' I added expectation of future 
benefits, because the ground of that expectation is pres- 
ent goodness. 

16. God is the natural object of the several religious 
affections. — Thus Almighty God is the natural object 
of the several affections, love, reverence, fear, desire of 
approbation. For though he is simply one, yet we 
cannot but consider him in partial and different views. 
He is in himself one uniform being, and forever the 
same without variableness or shadoiv of turning' : but 
his infinite greatness, his goodness, his wisdom, are 
different objects to our mind. To which is to be added, 
that from the changes in our own characters, together 
with his unchangeableness, we cannot but consider 
ourselves as more or less the objects of his approbation, 
and really be so. For if he approves what is good, he 
cannot, merely from the unchangeableness of his 
nature, approve what is evil. Hence must arise more 
various movements of mind, more different kinds of af- 
fections. And this greater variety also is just and rea- 
sonable in such creatures as we are, though it respects 
a Being simply one, good and perfect. As some of 
these affections are most particularly suitable to so im- 
perfect a creature as man, in this mortal state we are 
passing through ; so there may be other exercises of 



'I 

\ 



THE LOVE OF GOD. 



187 



•mind, or some of these in higher degrees, our employ- 
ment and happiness in a state of perfection. 

17. 3Ian is conscious of ivants ivhich nothing earthly 
can fill, — Let us then suppose a man entirely disen- 
gaged from business and pleasure, sitting down alone 
and at leisure, to reflect upon himself and his own con- 
dition of being. He would immediately feel that he 
was by no means complete of himself, but totally in- 
sufficient for his own happiness. One may venture to 
affirm, that every m^an hath felt this, whether he hath 
again reflected upon it or not. It is feeling this 
deficiency, that they are unsatisfied with themselves, 
which makes men look out for assistance from abroad ; 
and which has given rise to various kinds of amuse- 
ments altogether needless any otherwise than as they 
serve to fill up the blank spaces of time, and so hinder 
their feeling this deficiency, and being unea;5y wllh 
themselves. 

Novv^, if these external things we take up with were 
really an adequate supply to this deficiency of human 
nature, if by their means our capacities and desires 
were all satisfied and filled up ; then it might be truly 
said, that we had found out the proper happiness of 
man ; and so might sit down satisfied, and be at rest 
in the enjoyment of it. But if it appears, that the 
amusements, which men usually pass their time in, are 
so far from coming up to or answering our notions and 
desires of happiness, or good, that they are really no 
more than what they are commonly called, somewhat 
to pass away the time ; i.e.^ somewhat which serves to 
turn us aside from, and prevent our attending to, this 
our internal poverty and want ; if they serve only, or 
chiefly, to suspend, instead of satisfying our concep- 



188 PARTICULAR AFFECTI0X3 AND DUTIES. 



tions and desires of happiness ; if the want remains, 
and we have found out little more than barely the 
means of m.aking it less sensible, then are we still to 
seek for somewhat to be an adequate supply to it. 

18. God alone can satisfy them. — It i? plain that 
there is a capacity in the nature of man, which neither 
riches, nor honors, nor sensual gratifications, nor any 
thing in this world can perfectly fill up. or satisfy : there 
is a deeper and more essential want than any of these 
things can be the supply of. Yet surely there is a pos- 
sibility of somewhat, which may fill up all our capaci- 
ties of happiness ; somewhat in which our souls may 
find rest; somewhat which may be to us that spttisfac- 
tor}^ good we are inquiring after. But it cannot be 
any thing Avhich is valuable only as it tends to some 
further end. Those, therefore, who have got this world 
so much into their hearts, as not to be able to consider 
happiness as consisting in any thing but propeity and 
possessions, which are only valuable as the means to 
somewhat else, cannot have the least glimpse of the 
subject before us ; which is the end, not the means ; 
the thing itself, not somewhat in order to it. But if 
you can lay aside that general, confused, undetermfinate 
notion of happiness, as consisting in such possessions ; 
and fix in your thoughts that it really can consist in 
nothing but in a faculty's having its proper object; you 
vrill clearly see, that in the coolest way of considera- 
tion, without either the heat of fanciful enthusiasm, or 
the warmth of real devotion, nothing is more certain 
than that an infinite Being may himself be, if he 
pleases, the supply to all the capacities of our nature. 
All the common enjoyments of life are from the facul- 
ties he hath endued us with, and the objects he hath 



THE LOVE OF GOD. 



189 



made suitable to them. He may himself be to us infi- 
nitely more than, all these : he may be to us all that we 
want. As our understanding can contemplate itself, 
and our affections be exercised upon themselves by re- 
flection, so may each be employed in the same manner 
upon any other mind : and since the supreme Mind, 
the Author and Cause of all things, is the highest pos: 
sible object to himself, he may be an adequate supply 
to all the faculties of our souls ; a subject to our un- 
derstanding, and an object to our affections. 

19. The same wants must continue in another state. — 
Consider then, when we shall have put off this mortal 
body, when we shall be divested of sensual appetites, 
and those possessions, v/hich are now the means of 
gratification, shall be of no avail ; when this restless 
scene of business and vain pleasures, which now 
diverts us from ourselves, shall be all over, we, our 
proper self, shall still remain : we shall still continue 
the same creatures we are, with wants to be supplied, 
and capacities of happiness. We must have facul- 
ties of perception, though not sensitive ones; and 
pleasure or uneasiness from our perceptions, as now we 
have. 

20. Our love of order ^ etc.^ may he gratified in God. 

— There are certain ideas which we express by the 
words order^ harmony^ proportion^ beauty^ the furthest 
removed from any thing sensual. Now what is there 
in those intellectual images, forms, or ideas, which be- 
gets that approbation, love, delight, and even rapture, 
which is seen in some person's faces upon having those 
objects present to their minds? — " Mere enthusiasm I" 

— Be it what it will, there are objects, v/orks of nature 
and of art, which all mankind have delight from, quite 



190 



PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



distinct from their affording gratification to sensual ap- 
petites ; and from quite another view of them, than as 
being for their interest and further advantage. The 
faculties from which we are capable of these pleasures, 
and the pleasures themselves, are as natural and as 
much to be accounted for, as any sensual appetite 
whatever, and the pleasure from its gratification. 
Words, to be sure, are wanting upon this subject : to 
say that every thing of grace and beauty throughout 
the whole of nature, every thing excellent and amiable 
shared in differently lower degrees by the whole crea- 
tion, meet in the Author and Cause of all things ; this 
is an inadequate, and perhaps improper way of speak- 
ing of the Divine nature : but it is manifest that abso- 
lute rectitude, the perfection of being, must be in all 
senses, and in every respect, the highest object to the 
mind. 

21. The attributes and being of God may hereafter 
be directly contem'plated, — In this world it is only the 
effects of wisdom, and power, and greatness, which we 
discern : it is not impossible that hereafter the qualities 
themselves, in the Supreme Being, may be the imme- 
diate object of contemplation. What amazing won- 
ders are opened to view by late improvements ! What 
an object is the universe to a creature, if there be a 
creature who can comprehend its system ! But it must 
be an infinitely higher exercise of the understanding, to 
view the scheme of it in that mind which projected it, 
before its foundations were laid. And surely we have 
meaning to the words, when we speak of going further ; 
and viewing, not only this system in his mind, but the 
wisdom and intelligence itself from whence it pro- 
ceeded. The same may be said of power. But since 



THE LOYE OF GOD. 



191 



wisdom and power are not God, he is a wise, a pow^er- 
ful Being ; the Divine nature may therefore be a farther 
object to the understanding. It is nothing to observe 
that our senses give us but an imperfect knowledge of 
things : effects themselves, if we knew them thoroughly, 
would give us but imperfect notions of wisdom and 
power ; much less of his Being, in whom they reside. 
I am not speaking of any fanciful notion of seeing all 
things in God ; but only representing to you how much 
an higher object to the understanding an infinite Being 
himself is, than the things which he has made : and 
this is no more than saying, that the Creator is superior 
to the works of his hands. 

22. This illustrated. — This may be illustrated by a 
low example. Suppose a machine, the sight of which 
would raise, and discoveries in its contrivance gratify, 
our curiosity : the real delight in this case would arise 
from its being the effect of skill and contiivance. This 
skill in the mind of the artificer would be a higher 
object, if we had any senses or ways to discern it. 
For, observe, the contemplation of that principle, 
faculty, or power which produced any effect, must be 
a higher exercise of the understanding, than the con- 
templation of the effect itself. The cause must be a 
higher object to the mind than the effect. 

23. But the conte^nplation of goodness is our chief 
good. — But whoever considers distinctly what the de- 
light of knowledge is, will see reason to be satisfied 
that it cannot be the chief good of man : all this, as it 
is applicable, so it was mentioned w^ith regard to the 
attribute of goodness. I say goodness. Our being 
and all our enjoyments are the effects of it: just men 
bear its resemblance : but how little do we know of 
the original, of what it is in itself? Recall what was 



192 



PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



before observed concerning the affection to moral char- 
acters ; which, in how low a degree soever, yet is plainly- 
natural to man, and the most excellent part of his 
nature : suppose this improved, as it may be improved, 
to any degree whatever, in the spirits of just men made 
perfect ; and then suppose that they had a real view of 
that righteousness which is an everlasting righteousness ; 
of the conformity of the Divine will to the law of trutli, 
in which the moral attributes of God consist ; of that 
goodness in the sovereign Mind which gave birth to 
the universe : add, what will be true of all good men 
hereafter, a consciousness of having an interest in what 
they are contemplating; suppose them able to say, 
This God is our God forever and ever : would they be 
any longer to seek for what was their chief happiness, 
their final good ? Could the utmost stretch of their 
capacities look further ? Would not infinite perfect 
goodness be their very end, the last end and object of 
their affections ; beyond which they could neither have, 
nor desire ; beyond which they could not form a wish 
or thought ? 

24. All this may he realized in the presence of God, 
in another world. — Consider wherein that presence of 
a friend consists, which has often so strong an effect as 
wholly to possess the mind, and entirely suspend all 
other affections and regards; and which itself affords 
the highest satisfaction and enjoyment. He is within 
reach of the senses. Now, as our capacities of per- 
ception improve, we shall have, perhaps, by some 
faculty entirely new, a perception of God's presence 
with us in a nearer and stricter way ; since it is certain 
he is more intimately present with us than any thing 
else can be. Proof of the existence and presence of 
any being is quite different from the immediate percep- 



THE LOVE OF GOD. 



193 



tion, the consciousness of it. What then will be the 
joy of heart which his presence, and the light of his 
countenance^ who is the life of the imiverse, will inspire 
good men with, when they shall have a sensation that 
he is the sustainer of their being, that they exist in 
him ; when they shall feel his influence to cheer and 
enliven and support their frame in a manner of which 
we have now no conception ? He v/ill be in a literal 
sense their strength and their portion forever. 

25. It is warranted by Scripture. — When we speak 
of things so much above our comprehension, as the 
employment and happiness of a future state, doubtless 
it behooves us to speak with all modesty and distrust of 
ourselves. But the Scripture represents the happiness 
of that state under the notions of seeing God^ seeing 
Mm as he is, knowing as ive are knoivn, and seeing face 
to face. These words are not general or undetermined, 
but express a particular determinate happiness. And 
I will be bold to say, that nothing can account for, or 
come up to these expressions, but only this, that God 
himself will be an object to our faculties, that he him- 
self will be our happiness ; as distinguished from the 
enjoyments of the present state, which seem to arise, 
not immediately from him, but from the objects he has 
adapted to give us delight. 

26. Conclusion. — To conclude : Let us suppose a 
person tired with care and sorrow, and the repetition 
of vain delights, which fill up the round of life ; sensi- 
ble that every thing here below in its best estate is alto- 
gether vanity. Suppose him to feel that deficiency of 
human nature, before taken notice of; and to be con- 
vinced that God alone was the adequate supply to it. 
What could be more applicable to a good man in this 

17 



194 



PARTICULAR AFFECTIONS AND DUTIES. 



state of mind; or better express his present wants and 
distant hopes, his passage through this world as a prog- 
ress towards a state of perfection, than the following 
passages in the devotions of the royal prophet ? They 
are plainly in an higher and more proper sense applica- 
ble to this than they could be to any thing else. I have 
seen an end of all perfection. Whom have I in heaven 
hut thee ? and there is none upon earth that I desire in 
comparison of thee, 3Iy flesh and my heart faileth 
but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion 
forever. Like as the hart desireth the water-brooks, so 
longeth my soul after thee, O God. My soul is athirst 
for God, yea, even for the living God: when shall 1 
come to appear before him ? How excellent is thy loving 
kindness, O God ! and the children of men shall put 
their trust under the shadow of thy wings. They shall 
be satisfied with the plenteousness of thy house; and 
thou shalt give them drink of thy pleasures, as out of the 
river. For ivith thee is the well of life : and in thy 
light shall ive see light. Blessed is the man who?ji thou 
choosest, and receive st into thee: he shall dwell in thy 
court, and shall be satisfied ivith the pleasures of thy 
house, even of thy holy temple. Blessed is the people, 
O Lord, that can rejoice in thee : they shall walk in the 
light of thy countenance. Their delight shall be daily 
in thy name, and in thy righteousness shall they make 
their boast. For thou art the glory of their strength : 
and in thy loving kindness they shall be exalted. As for 
me, I loill behold thy presence in righteousness : and 
luhen I awake up after thy likeness I shall be satisfied 
tvith it. Thou shalt shoiu me the path of life ; in thy 
presence is the fullness of joy, and at thy right hand 
there is pleasure for evermore. 



APPENDIX. 



BUTLER AND PALEY AS MORALISTS. 
[From Dr. Whewell's edition of the " Three Sermons on Human Nature."] 

The points of opposition between Butler and Paley are 
obvious enough. Paley declares liis intention (B. i., c. vi.) to 
omit the " usual declamation " on the dignity and capacity of 
our nature ; the superiority of the soul to the body, of the 
rational to the animal part of our constitution ; upon the worth- 
iness, refinement, and delicacy of some satisfactions, or the 
meanness, grossncss, and sensuality of others. Butler, on the 
contrary, teaches that there is a difference of kind among our 
principles of action, which is quite distinct from their difference 
of strength ; that reason was intended to control animal appe- 
tite, and that the law of man's nature is violated when the con- 
trary takes place. Paley teaches us to judge of the merit of 
actions by the advantages to which they lead ; Butler teaches 
that good desert and ill desert are something else than mere 
tendencies to the advantage and disadvantage of society. 
Paley makes virtue depend upon the consequences of our 
actions : Butler makes it depend upon the due operation of the 
moral constitution. Paley is the moralist of utility; Butler, of 
conscience. 

We must take care, however, that we do not press the antith- 
esis of the. two moralists too far ; especially as both of them 
have, by their mode of writing, given openings for misappre- 
hensions. Paley, aiming above all things to say what was 
lucid and what was practical, often selects modes of expression 
which violate the habits of previous moral writers, for the very 

19.5 



196 



APPENDIX. 



reason that they do so ; as in the passage just quoted, when he 
calls it " declamation," to speak of the dignity and capacity of 
our nature, the superiority of the soul to the body, of the 
rational to the animal part of our nature ; adding, "I hold that 
pleasures differ in nothing but in continuance and intensity." 
So also in his declaration that " whatever is expedient is right." 
Such expressions as this last, if taken in the usual sense of the 
words, are altogether immoral ; since they acknowledge no 
necessary moral superiority of truth over falsehood, or kindness 
over cruelty ; and the preceding tenet, recognizing no necessary 
superiority of human pleasures over those of animals, might 
be called brutish. Yet Paley's own right feeling leads him to 
explain away the greater part of that which is vicious and de- 
basing in these expressions. He had no turn for speculative 
morality ; and the errors of his fundamental principles are com- 
pensated by other errors in applying them and reasoning from 
them, so that most of his practical conclusions admit of a harm- 
less sense ; although there is likely to remain, in the mind of 
his readers, a pernicious influence, produced by his disparaging 
rejection of so many of the most familiar and significant forms 
in v.'hich the moral convictions of all ages have been expressed. 

If Butler's mode of speaking of Conscience may possibly 
place him more entirely in opposition to Paley than his real 
view does ; on the other hand, his doctrines may appear to ap- 
proach more nearly to Paley's than is their true position, in 
consequence of his speaking of Virtue sometimes as identical, 
in the main, with the pursuit of our real happiness, and some- 
times as tending to promote in the greatest degree the happi- 
ness of mankind. Thus [C. i., S. iii. 8.] he employs him- 
self in showing that if we seek happiness, we shall find virtue 
the best way to it, and asserts that self-love generally coincides 
w^ith virtue. And in other places, he makes the like assertions 
or concessions. Thus in his eleventh sermon, [C. i., S. iv. 
32] he says, '-'It may be allowed without any prejudice to 
the cause of virtue and religion, that our ideas of happiness 



APPENDIX. 197 

and misery are of all onr ideas the nearest and most import- 
ant to us ; that tliey will, nay, if yon please, that they ought 
to prevail over those of order and beauty and harmony and 
proportion, if there ever should be, as it is impossible there 
ever should he, any inconsistence between them ; — though 
these last two [that is, order and beauty and harmony and pro- 
portion], as expressing the fitness of action, are as real as truth 
itself.'^ The passages which I have marked in italics show 
how far Butler is from giving up our internal standard of vir- 
tue, when he acknowledges its ultimate coincidence with the 
pursuit of happiness ; yet an adherent of Paley, by omitting 
these notices of Butler's real opinion, might assert an agree- 
ment between the two writers. And in the next sentence, he 
again sa3\s, Let it be allowed, though virtue or moral rectitude 
does indeed consist in affection to, and pursuit of, luhat is right 
and good, as such ; yet that when we sit down in a cool hour, 
we can neither justify to ourselves this or any other pursuit, till 
we are convinced that it will be for our ha[)pii]CJ3, cr at lca~t 
not contrary to it." 

The agreement in the results of two systems of morality, ^ 
constructed by two thoughtful and virtuous men, is what we 
might naturally look for : and a very little attention will suf- 
fice to show how it comes to pass that Butler so readily assents 
to a formula which is mainly characteristic of a school very 
different from his : although it is true, that the use of this for- 
mula, as the motto of a school, has become much more distinct 
and frequent since Butler's time. But Butler, in asserting that 
virtue is the right road to happiness, asserted what Avas in 
entire consonance with his own more peculiar doctrine, that 
virtue consists in the right operation of man's internal constitu- 
tion ; because Butler necessarily includes, in his idea of happi- 
ness, the tranquillity and peace of mind and satisfliction which 
arises from a harmonious operation of man's inward faculties 
•and principles. He may well allow that virtue is the pursuit 
of happiness, because he cannot allow happiness. to exist where 
17* 



198 



APPENDIX. 



virtue is not. He allov/s that we oiiglit to aim at happiness ; 
and one element of the happiness at which we ought to aim is 
the approval of our actions by our own conscience. We have to 
seek happiness under the impulse of various desires, affections, 
and principles of action ; and among these principles, is that 
which approves and disapproves of our actions, and which, as 
Butler has shown, is superior in kind and authority to the rest. 
This, as well as the others, must exercise its due sway, and 
must be duly satisfied, in order that we may approach towards 
happiness. Butler could not allow that state to be happiness, in 
which we gratify the desires and affections, and disregard the 
voice of conscience. Upon his doctrine, this would be a most 
unhappy discord and disorder of our nature. 

It would not have been possible, therefore, for Butler to 
assent to such an account of happiness as that given by Paley 
(B. I., c. vi.j, that it consists in the exercise of the social affec- 
tions, of the faculties of body and mind, the prudent constitu- 
tion of the habits, and health. He would naturally say that all 
these, without the pursuit of good ends by good means, could 
not make a man happy ; still less could the}^ do so, if, with all 
these, a man were pursuing criminal purposes, or living a life 
of vice, or laboring under self-accusation or remorse ; in all 
which there is nothing inconsistent with Paley's account of hap- 
piness. And thus, whatever casual coincidence there may be 
in the j)hrases used here and there by Butler and by Paley, 
there is a very v/idc difference in reality between the moral 
philosophy of the one and of the other. 

Paley's chapter on Human Happiness is, indeed, a curious * 
example of his combination of good sense and good feeling 
with an entire inaptitude for S3^stematic thinking and writing. 
The chapter might be read as a very pleasing and sensible 
essay upon those elements of happiness which have least to do 
with the foundations of morality (for even the social affections 
are considered only so fiir as they affect " the spirits ") ; but it- 
has not any connection with any thing which goes before or 



! 

i 

APPENDIX. 199 

I comes after it. The cliapter is, indeed, verbally connected 

with the beginning of the succeeding one, in so far that the 
word happiness is prominent in both places. "Virtue is the 
doing good to mankind in obedience to the will of God, and for 
the sake of everlasting happiness." Bnt it is evident that there 
is scarcely the vestige of a connection between the sense of the 
word hapjnness in the one passage and in the other. But the 
passage in which this word /lappiness comes in, so as to show 
its real place in Paley's scheme of morality, is Chapter v. of 
the second Book ; where he says " that the method of coming 
at the will of God concerning every action by the light of 
nature, is to inquire into the tendency of that action to promote 
or diminish the general happiness." This mode of determin- 
ing the moral character of actions, by tracing their influence 
upon the general happiness of mankind, is the mode professed 
by Paley ; but not followed out by him with any logical cohe- 
rence, in consequence, among other things, of his not having 
given any account of human happiness which can be used for 
such a purpose. More recent writers on morals have endeav- 
ored to execute his plan more completely, by following the 
course which it obviously suggests ; — analyzing happiness into 
its elements, and using this analysis in estimating the moral 
value of actions. I conceive it might be shown that the analy- 
sis thus given, besides being precarious, is in all cases either 
incomplete, or is itself dependent upon moral ideas ; but I shall 
not here pursue the subject. 

But I may point out what is Butler's view of such a system 
of morality. In the Dissertation on Virtue he teaches us that 
good desert is not mere tendency to the good of society, and 
that benevolence is not the v/hole of virtue : and says, with 
reference to Shaftesbury, what we may say with reference to 
Paley, that writers of great and distinguished merit have ex- 
pressed themselves in a manner which may occasion some dan- 
ger to careless readers ; " namely, the danger of imagining the 
whole of virtue to consist in aiming rightly at promoting the 



200 



APPENDIX. 



happiness of mankind in tlie present state : and tlie whole of 
vice in the contrary ; than M'hieh mistakes, Butler emphatically 
says, none can be conceived more terrible. Again : in a note 
on his twelfth Sermon (upon the Love of our Neighbor) he 
says : — 

" As we are not competent judges what is upon the whole 
for the good of the world, there may be other immediate ends 
appointed us to pursue, besides that of doing good, or producing 
happiness. Though the good of the creation be the only end 
of the Author of it, yet he may have laid us under particular 
obligations, which we may discern and feel ourselves under, 
quite distinct from a perception, that the observance or vio- 
lation of them is for the happiness or misery of our fellow- 
creatures." 

" And this is in fact the case." And he then goes on to show, 
that " there are certain dispositions of mind, and certain actions, 
which are in themselves approved and disapproved by mankind, 
abstracted from their tendency to the happiness or misery of 
the world ; — approved or disapproved by that principle 
within which is the guide of life, the judge of right and 
wrong." He proceeds to mention treachery, indecency, mean- 
ness, as dispositions which we disapprove ; greatness of mind, 
fidelity, honor, justice, as things which we approve, "in quite 
another view than as conducive to the happiness or misery of 
the vvorld." 

It would be easy to adduce from Butler other passages of the 
same import : but from what has already been said, it must be 
obvious how far he is removed from those who define and 
measure virtue by its tendency to promote human happiness. 
He does not say that virtue does not do this ; but he says that 
we are not competent judges of what is upon the whole for the 
good of the world. He willingly grants that the good of the 
creation may be the only end of the Author of it ; but he 
holds that the same Author of Creation has laid us under par- 
ticular obligations, which we are to discern and feel in some 



APPENDIX. 



201 



other vray. And this way is, in liis creed, a reference to our 
internal faculties and powers, not to external objects and effects. 
The means of discovering our duty which he mainly recom- 
mends are, the consideration of tlie plain office and authority 
of our various faculties, and the judgment of our minds in our 
calmer hours, when passion and interest are silent. By such a 
consideration he conceives that we cannot fail to see the moral 
value of such ideas as benevolence, justice, veracity, decency, 
and the like. 

Among the other phrases which Butler suggests as used to 
describe the moral f\^culty of man, he introduces moral sense ; 
a term which has become more celebrated in consequence of its 
being employed, or supposed to be employed, by some moralists 
to imply a sense which discerns the moral qualities of its objects 
directly and immediatel}'', as the sight discerns colors, or the 
.taste savors. It may be doubted whether such a crude and 
physical notion of a moral sense was ever entertained by any 
thoughtful moralist ; for the judgment of man concerning 
actions as good or bad cannot be expressed or formed, without 
reference to language, to social relations, to acknowledged 
rights : and the apprehension of these implies the agency of 
the miderstanding in a manner quite different from the percep- 
tions of the bodily senses. It is plain, at least, as I have 
already said, that Butler never dreamt of asserting a moral 
sense in any such use of the term as this. Paley, with his 
usual love of clearness, and his usual inaptitude in what con- 
cerns systems, has stated the question of the moral sense in the 
ipost exaggerated physical form. He supposes a case of par- 
ricide to be stated to " a savage without experience, and with- 
out instruction, cut off in his infancy from all intercourse with 
his species, and consequently under no possible influence of ex- 
ample, authority, education, sympathy, or habit;" and he 
inquires whether such a creature would disapprove of the par- 
ricide. To this we might reply, that such a creature would be 
no evidence of what is the natural operation of the faculties of 



202 



APPENDIX. 



man, as man, a social creature, necessarily educated by social 
intercourse ; any more than Casper Hauser, the wild boy, who, 
after being kept pinioned from childhood to manhood, tottered 
into the streets of Nuremberg, is evidence of man's natural 
faculty of walking. Such a creature as Paley describes is, for 
the present, not so much a man as a brute. But we may add 
further, that though a brute, he looidd^ as a brute, disapprove 
of parricide, if his disapproval be collected from his actions ; 
which, language being supposed to be excluded, is the only 
w^ay in which the sentiments of brutes can be collected. The 
mutual affection of the parents and offspring among brutes is a 
germ of the human affections which make us condemn parricide 
and child-murder as unnatural crimes. 

"With regard to Paley's subsequent remarks in the same 
chapter, that we approve at first those qualities in others which 
are beneficial to ourselves, that the sentiment thus becomes 
associated with the quality, and that this is the way in which 
men come to a general agreement with regard to the moral 
qualities which they admire, — I conceive that Butler would 
by no means agree with him. or allow men are led at first to 
admire fidelity, honor, justice, magnanimity, by considering 
that these qualities are beneficial, or likely to be beneficial, to 
ourselves. Nor do we conceive that either the nature of the 
admiration v/hich w^e bestow, or the manner in which it grows 
up, so far as we can observe its growth (for instance, in chil- 
dren), agrees with this account of it. As I have said, Butler 
cloes not assert a moral sense to exist in any technical or dis- 
tinct form ; but I conceive that he does assert it to be the 
natural tendency of the human mind to approve benevolence, 
veracit}^, justice, and the like, without waiting for a calculation 
of the consequences of such qualities. And this doctrine is 
not inconsistent with the actual and unblamed practice of 
actions vfhich are not benevolent, faithful, and just; because it 
may be that the acts in question are considered by the actors 
under some other point of view; if, indeed, they are treated at 



APPENDIX. 



203 



all as matters of morality; and are not rather the results of 
ungoverned impulses of passion. Thus, cruelty to enemies is, 
perhaps, considered as fidelity to friends, or as justice ; and 
however narrow and blind this morality be, it does not approve 
of cruelty as such. To see what benevolence, veracity, and 
justice really require of men, under given circumstances, is, no 
doubt, the office not of any simple sense or faculty, operating 
by direct perception, but of the rational and moral fliculties of 
man, guided by the best light that can be procured for them. 
But this does not prove that they must arrive at their decision 
by calculating the total amount of pleasure or happiness which 
any given course of conduct would produce. This, Butler, in a 
passage which I have already quoted, conceives to be a point 
of which we are not competent judges; and he refers us to 
other methods of determining what is our duty. 

But though to calculate the consequences of actions be not a 
safe way, nor generalljsk a practicable way, and still less, the 
only way of determining how far they are virtuous or vicious, 
no thoughtful moralist ever doubts that virtuous acts do really, 
and upon the whole, promote the good and happiness of man- 
kind, when all the elements of good and happiness are taken 
into the account. And though many of these elements may be 
too subtle and various to be described and measured in our cal- 
culation (as the state of mind and heart), and though the oper- 
ation of our actions upon these elements (the effect of our 
actions upon our own minds and those of others) may be im- 
possible to appreciate, — yet we can, to a certain extent, trace 
the way in which virtuous actions tend to the happiness, and 
vicious actions to the unhappiness of mankind. And so far as 
we can do this it is a pleasant and healthful employment of our 
minds. In several instances Paley has pursued this employ- 
ment in a lucid, lively, and sensible manner ; and -in this point 
of view, parts of his work may be read with profit and pleas- 
ure. If the work had been entitled Morality as Derived from 
General Utility, and if the principle had been taken for granted, 



204 APPENDIX. 



1 



instead of being supported by the proofs wliicli Paley offers, tlie 
work might have been received yntli unmingled gratitude ; and 
the excellent sense and temper which for the most part it shows, 
in the application of rules, might have produced their beneficial 
effect without any drawback. 

In this place, where we are familiar with the study of the 
great moral writers of antiquity, it is interesting to us to note 
the points of resemblance between their doctrines and those of 
our most admired modern moralists. The agreement between 
the moral philosophy of Plato and of Butler is, indeed, very 
striking. In Plato's Dialogue on the Republic, as in Butler's 
Sermons, the human soul is represented as a system, a constitu- 
tion, an organized whole, in which the different elements have 
not merely their places side by side, but their places above and 
below each other, with their appointed offices ; and virtue or 
moral rightness consists in the due operation of this constitu- 
tion, the actual realization of this oi'ganized subordination. 
We may notice, too, that Plato, like Butler, is remarkable 
among moralists for the lucid and forcible manner in which he 
has singled out from man's springs of action the irascible ele- 
ment (his Qviioeideg; Butler's Resentment ;) and taught its true 
place and office in a moral scheme. 

Aristotle's ethical doctrines are less philosophically definite 
than those of Plato ; but in their general import they agree 
very nearly with those asserted by Butler. Thus Aristotle 
begins by treating of the end of human action, happiness ; and 
though he thus appears to make an external end the sovereign 
guide of action, and thus to differ from Butler, he soon intro- 
duces an element which makes this guide cease to be an exter- 
nal one, by telling us {Eth. Nicom. i. 7), that the happiness of 
man involves " the activity of the mind in the way of virtue.'* 
For thus, virtue and happiness always and necessarily coincide, 
which Butler everywhere asserts ; while virtue is not derived 
from external objects, which would be contrary to Butler's 
scheme. 



APPENDIX. 



205 



Butler's sympathies, however, as to philosophical doctrine, 
are undoubtedly with the Stoics. In order to describe the pe- 
culiar sentiment of rejection and disapproval with which we 
regard actions unjust or otherwise wrong, he borrows the for- 
mula of the Stoics, which Cicero had borrowed before him, and 
in which such actions are said to be contrary to nature. See 
the passage in Cicero's Offices (iii. 4 : " Redeo ad formulam. 
Detrahere aliquid alteri, et hominem hominis incommodo suum 
augere commodum magis est contra naturam quam mors, quam 
paupertas, quam dolor, quam cjetera, quse possunt aut corpori 
accidere aut rebus externis.") And in the Dissertation on Vir- 
tue [1] he quotes the commencement of that classical work 
of the later Stoics, Arrian's Epictetiis, in which we read that 
" Of the other faculties, you will find none which contemplates 
itself {n.vrrjv avr^g QeuprjTLKTjv), still less which approves and disap- 
proves its own acts :" {SoKifiaariJCT^v y uTtodoKifxaanKTjv :) which way 
of speaking, Butler says, he has adopted as the most full and 
the least liable to cavil. 

It is, indeed, evident that the two opposite moral schools of 
antiquity, the Stoical and the Epicurean, have had their an- 
tagonism prolonged into modern times ; nor can it cease to sub- 
sist so long as there is a school of independent morality, which, 
like Butler, seeks the ground of virtue or moral rightncoS in 
the faculties of man and their relation to each other; and 
another school of dependent morality, which, like Paley, looks 
for the criterion of rightness to external things; — pleasure, 
utility, expediency, or by whatever name it may be called. 
That Paley is the successor of the Epicurean, as Butler is the 
adherent of the Stoical school, is evident on the face of his sys- 
tem. And this is a view which probably he would not himself 
have repudiated. 

His first literary production, I believe, was a " Bachelor's 
prize " Essay, to which the prize was adjudged by theUniversity 
in 1765. The subject of this essay was a comparison between 
the Stoic and Epicurean philosophy, and in this he had, as was 
18 



206 



APPENDIX. 



natural with his habits of mind, taken the Epicurean side. 
Nor was this an effusion hastily and lightly flung from his pen ; 
for it was accompanied with elaborate notes in English, and is 
still recollected as bearing marks of that vivacity of thought 
and expression, for which his writings were afterwards so justly 
admired. 



I 



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PITTS -STREET CHAPEL LECTURES, 

Delivered in Boston, by Clergymen of six different Denominations, during the Winter 
of 1S5S. The questions discussed, and the Clergymen by whom they were defended, 
were as follows : — 

1. TThv I am a Methodist. — By Bev. TT. R. Clark. 2. Why I am a Universalisfc. — 
By Bev. Thomas B Thayer. 3. Why I am a Baptist. — By Bvev. James N. Syke^ 
4. \\hy I am a Trinitarian Congregationalist. — By Bev. Dr. Adams. 5. Why I am 
an Episcopalian. — Bv Bev. Dr. Band.ill. 6. Why I am a Unitarian. — By Key. Dr 
Dewey. 7. Spiritual Christianity. — By Bev. T. Starr King. 

These Lectures drew crowds of attentive listeners during their delivery; and in com- 
pliance with the desire of hundreds, we have published them complete in one volume, 
thus furnishing every inquirer after the true path a guide prepared and defended by 
its own disciples. 

This volume should find a place in every household, for its pages contain the eccle- 
siastical polity, and denominational views of each of the leading Christian Sects in our 
country. 

It is a book for the family and the individual, for old and young, and for the intel- 
ligent of both sexes; a book for all seasons, aud for every year; a book to be perused 
and re-perused — a volume both instructive and interesting. Price Sl.OO. 

J ohn P. Jewett & Co., Publishers, KTo, 20 Washington St., Boston. 



The notices of these Lectures have been of the strongest character. 

These disconr.'^es are from good representatives of their denominations, men well 
qtialined to give a reason for the faith that is in them. — Christian Mirror^ Portland. 

Sermons, written bj' men of so much jjower, must be read with very deep interesl, 
— Daihj Advertiser, Boston. 

AVe hail the volume as the harbinger of a just and generous sectarian emulation. — 
Yox Popu'i, Loivcll. 

These are able productions, and attracted immense audiences at their delivery. — 
E. Farmer. Boston. 

A work of much interest to the reflective and religious portion of the community. — 

Fort'^and Advertiser. 

T as volume contains seven lectures, delivered by well-known divines and scholars, 
anc. equal to any men living to act the parts of champions of the various denomina- 
tions of the Christian faith to which they belong. — Evening Traveller, Boston. 

Mr. Clarke's lecture is a masterly production; Mr. Sykes' is eminently conscien- 
tious: Dr. Adams" defence of the Divinity of Christ, is masterly, and its spirit deeply 
evangelical ; Dr. Randairs is a labored defence of Episcopacy; Dr. Dewey's is poetically 
beautiful in style; T. Starr King's is eloquent, glowing, liberal. — Zioii's Herald, 
Boston. 

The work is valuable not only for the ability and learning displayed by the several 
preachers, but as setting forth the views of the leading denominations, in a compendi- 
ous form. — Portland Transcript. 

It is the most sectarian, and at the same time the most liberal book that we could 
readily name. V.'c have no doubt that it will meet with an extensive sale. — Univer- 
salist Quarterly Mu^nzine. 

We have now a fiir representation of the six sects before us. Let us study it. We 
say to our peculiar brethren, study it. Learn what Methodism is from what the Meth- 
odist says, and so through the whole. Let each sect speak for itself. Let the members 
of all tb.e sects road all the boolc, and as in the paral^le. when the fishers drew in "of 
every kind,"' they g.-.tlieved "the good into ve-^-^els and cast the bad away," so let the 
reader do in the perusal of this volume. — Jiuinjin. Boston. 

This book is exceedingly interesting. It presents at once, through favorite and able 
mediums, the ground of jfaith of each Christian denomination named. We predict for 
the book an extended sale. It deserves it. — Portland Argus 



Evil not Eternal: — Ar*e the Wicked Immortal? 

" Here, at least, let us hesitate and suspend our judgment.'^ 
Thus sfiicl an eminent oi'thodox divine, respecting the view that those who 
fail of Eternal Life, fail of Immortality. This is maintained in the late work : 

DEBT aHA-CE, 

AS RELATED TO 

THE DOCTRINE OE A FUTURE LIFE. 

BY C. F. HUDSON. 

Fifth Edition in Press. Price $1.25. 480 pages, 12mo. 
PublisM by J ©lie Pe Jewett ^ Co., 20 Wasliiagton St., Boston. 

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. — MOSTLY FEOM OPPONENTS. 
" We have here a work surpassing in elaborateness and completeness the 
most of modern theological productions. . , . The author is mild and candid in 
the statement of his views, correct in his representations of others, and exceed- 
ingly full and impartial in his exhibition of the various phases of belief and 
conjecture that have prevailed, both among philosophers and Christian writers, 
from the Fathers down to the present time." — Ziou's Herald. 

"We have read it with deep interest, and not without profit."- Congregationalist. 

" Ilis work shows very careful and extensive research, and on many collat- 
eral points his suggestions will be found instructive and important. . . . The 
aim of the book is, by showing the limitation of evil, to vindicate the goodness 
of God. There is scarcely one of the numerous positions of the vrriter for 
which he does not find collateral support in passages from the writings of dis- 
tinguished Christian authors of past centuries." — ^New Yorh Evangelist. 

" As a history of religious opinions, their relations and influence, it is a the- 
saurus. It has more real argument in it than almost any other 12mo volume 
of less than 500 pages Ave have ever seen. ... It is impossible not to respect 
his candor and acknowledge his ability. lie is not to be answered by a para- 
graph, nor disposed of by a sneer." — Free Will Bapiist Quarterly. 

" Moving straight in among some of the most perplexed, solemn, and pro- 
found questions of theological concern in our day, — especially those of Retri- 
bution, Human Nature, Divine Justice, and Love, — with a bold heart, a firm 
step, and a learned head, the author v.'ill not fail to get a hearing. lie has 
sufiered cheerfully, both for his orthodoxy and his liberality. Whatever secta- 
rians and idlers mny do, thinkers and scholars Avill attend to him with respect." 
— Huntington'' s Monthly Religions Magazine. 

" The following is from one of the best informed theologians of America: — 
' It is a work with Avhich no one who feels an interest in tlie subject can afford 
to dispense, whatever may be his views. The matter of fact and argument 
condensed in it would be expanded by many writers into half a dozen volumes. 
. . I am persuaded that there is no single work which gives so good an histori- 
cal view of the various forms of opinion in relation to the matters discussed. . . 
It is not merely a work of learning; it is lull of thought.' " — Christian Register. 

A ''most extraordinary book — on the score of argumentative ability, among 
the greatest .contributions that have ])een made to theological literature in 
America for many years." — Universalist Quarterly. 

"His argument — founded on Scripture and the creed of the early Christian 
Church — is profound and powerful." — N. Y. Morning Express. 

" Unquestionably the most candid and the most able work yet produced in our 
theological literature against the doctrine of eternal suffering. . . . The book 
. caimot fail to make a stir among theologians." — Christian Advocate and Journal. 



" The aiithor is a fine scholar, and Tvrites Trith ability." — Central dir. Herald. 

" A learned and able Avork." — Methodist Quarterly Review. 

" On every page it affords proof that it is the -work of a scholar, who is ssr&W 
furnished by Avide reading and patient investigation, and who lias the modest 
and reverent spirit of an earnest seeker of truth." — Unitarian Qiiar. Journal. 

" A book of great learning and subtlety." — Wi-iter in the Bibliotheca Sacra. 

" The candor of his statements and reasoning is adniirable. ... It is the 
most able and complete exhibition of a view which is far more likely to make 
converts in the future than Universalism. . . . The entire subject of future 
punisliment needs a new discussion, by men of eminent scholarship, vigorous 
thought, and genuine piety." — Congregational Herald. 

From Rev. Convers Francis, D. D., Professor in Cambridge Divinity School, 
" The most complimentary notices have certainly done it no more than justice 
— hardly that. 'J he more t have read it, the more I have admired the very 
thorough and painstaking research, the profound scholarship, and the able, 
fair reasoning, Avhich pervade the whole work. I really think it is a book of 
higher theological character than we have had among us for a long time. The 
ability, the sound learning, and the extent of research, by which it is charac- 
terized, will entitle it to rank among the works of permanent and settled value 
in theology." 

From the Author of Life in Christ,''' a Congregationcd 3Iinister, London, Eng. 
[The gentleman to whom John Foster addressed his noted Restorationist Letter.] 
" Thanks for the noble gift. ... 1 think you have treated the subject in a 
manner which must command the attention of scholars on both shores of the 
Atlantic. I truly congratulate you on having been enabled to render this signal 
service to the cause of that Avhich seems to be important truth." 



Those who think no great change of opinion on this subject is to be looked 
for, may respect the following presage of Isaac Taylor: " When once this 
weighty question of the after life has been opened, and vrhenit shall have come 
into the hands of well-informed biblical interpreters, a controversy v.-ill ensue, 
in the progress of which it will be discovered that, Avith unobservant eyes, Ave 
and our predecessors liave been so Avalking up and doAvn, and running hither and 
thither, among dim notices and indications of the future destinies of the human 
family, as to have failed to gather up or to regard much that has lain upon the pa- 
ges of the Bible, open and free to our use. . . . The renovation Avhicli Ave look for 
will come in as the splendor of day comes in the tropics; — it AA'ill be a sudden 
brightness that makes all things glad ! " ( V\^esley and ]\letliodism, pp. 289, 290.) 

YiXET has said: " Ea'cu noAv, after eighteen centuries of Christianity,^ we 
may be iuA'olved in some enormous error, of Avhich the Christianity of the 
future Avill make us ashamed." 

The doctrine of the book is commonly ascribed to Abp. Whately (Scrip- 
ture Revelations of a Future State, c. 8). It is urged by Sir Ja:mes SxEPHEif, 
a-s the only Avay of meeting the groAving scepticism of the age (Essays in Eccle- 
siastical Biography, Epilogue), and is commanding general respect in England. 
The gentleman ab'oA-e referred to says opinion on this subject "isundergouig 
a great but steady change in the best quarters," 

In Germany it ha? been maintained by Prof C. H. VrEissE (Christian Escha- 
tology, Studien u. Kritiken, 183G), and is very ably stated by Dr. Eotiie (The- 
ological Ethics, § 490). Of him and his Avork see Schaft" 's Germany." c. 33. 

In our own country it is not only maintained by A^arious ministers Avho have 
lost an orthodox connexion by Avitlidrawal or di^lellowship, but it is knoAvn to 
be held by several pastors of orthodox churches, Avho expect duly to publish 
the fact, " Avisely guarding their docks against the dangers of schism — not 
s])ecially by proselyting, but by discovering to them Asdiat are the fundamental 
and " necessary things of the Christian Faith. 

Is the doctrine of irainortal Avoe one of these? 



The main points made in the argument are as follows : 

1. The eternal sinfulness of "wicked, beings would involve perplexing relations 
to the Divine Government, and give a kind of dignity to the wielded themselves. 
And eternal wickedness, though in punishment, and however overruled for good, 
■would be an eternal evil. This must be either God's choice, or Iii^ necessity; 
and either view brings insuperable difficulties into our theology. But it.aporary 
evil may be neither God's choice nor his necessity, being simply permitted, in 
a system of probation or of recovery. The distinction between evil temporary 
and evil eternal appears important from such facts as these: A learned writer 
closes an account of the dispute between Bayle and his opponents by saying, 
" iS^o one can deny that the very great difficulties which press the doctrine of the 
origin of evil and its reconciliation with the justice and goodness of God, could 
be more easily overcome if an end of hell-punishments is supposed, and not 
their eternity." And Dr. Milller concludes his work on " The Christian Doc- 
trine of Sin " thus: A solution of the problem of the world would be possible, 
if tlie evil were not; — the evil which ... is capable of being maintained, by 
the Avill of the personal creature, persistently hardening itself, through endless 
ages." 

2. The scriptural doctrine of a Future Life is, endless life for the righteous. 
" The doctrine of the ' immortality of the soul' and the name are alike unknown 
to the entire Bible." (Olshausen, on 1 Cor. xv. 19, 20.) This supposed funda- 
mental truth is treated with profound silence in the Scriptures, while the Divine 
Existence, with Avhich it is often compared, is named continually. The phrase 
" everlasting punishment," put in contrast Avith " eternal life," does not imply 
immortal life in suffering. This is shown from the terms used, from Jewish 
opinions, and from the concession of orthodox divines that eternal extinction 
would be eternal punishment. The phrase their worm die th not, etc.," (Isa. 
Ixvi. 24; Mark ix. 44.) as much proves the immortality of carcasses as of souls. 
The phrase "unquenchable fire" Avas used by Eusebius in speaking of the 
martyrdom of Christians. These and other like expressions properly denote a 
complete and utter destruction of that to Avhich they are applied. 

3. The phrase " immortal soul" is not found in a Christian document until 
A. D. 135; nor such phrases as " eternal misery " until a later period. Such 
expressions resulted from the combination of Christian doctrine Avith Platonic 
opinions. This combination is apparent in the earlier Avritings of Justin i\Iartyr, 
A. D. 140; but his later writings warrant the statement of Gieseler, that he 
*' appeared to regard it as possible that the souls of the ungodly aa'III at some 
time be Avholly annihilated." Irena^us, (A. D. 178,) opposing the Rationalism 
of his day, speaks very plainly of " continuance for ever and ever to those Avho 
are saA'ed;" and of others as " depri\ing themselves of the gift of duration to 
all eternity." It woiild be easier to shoAV that even Athanasius, the " Father of 
Orthodoxy," held this, than that he held the nOAV orthodox a^cav. The results 
of the above named combination were, Manichrean difficulty on the one hand, 
and Bestorationism on the other. The latter, unknoAvn before, soon prevailed 
extensively, produced the doctrine of Purgatory, and continues to this day. 

4. The practical tendency of the vicAV here offered is suggested by the last 
statement. A punishment toe fearful — is unfeared. This is illustrated in the 
history of the English criminal code, ere its reform by the efibrts of Romilly 
and his coiidjutors. And the history of the Church goes to shoAV that the iieAV 
— rather, old and forgotten — doctrine of Life in Christ only, AA'ould give the 
Gospel ueAV energy and poAver. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I.— THE DIGXITT OF HUMAN NATURE. 
§ 1. The Rationalist Theory. — 2. The Christian Theory. — 3. Influence of the two 
Theories. — 4. Combination of the two Theories. — 5. Effects of the Combination. — 

6. The Dignity of Wickedness Page 1 

CHAPTER II. — ETIL AXD GOD. 
« 1. Natural Eril. — 2. Sin. Its Mvstery. — 3. The Origin, Economy, and End of Evil. 

— 4. The Idea of God and the Conception of God. — 5.^The Four Theologies. — 6. The 
Notion of Evil as an Eternal Necessity is Dualistic. — 7. The Analytic "Argument. — 
8. Historical Illustration. — 9. The Reaction. Agony of Faith. — 10. Absolut^^m. — 11. 
Reaction. Prostitution and Prostration of Faith. — 12 . Pantheism. Eclipse of Faith, . . 19 

CHAPTER III. — THE THEODICIES. 
§ 1. Theodicy a Duty. Absolutism. — 2. Sin against God as an Infinite Being. — 3. Sin 
against God as Infinite Loye. — 4. Sin as against the Diyine Goyernment. — 5. Uniyersal 
Distrust. — 6. Sin as against the Uniyersal Welfare. — 7. In Suo Infinitu. — 8. The Im- 
peratiye Nature of Duty. — 9. Historical Eternity of Sin. — 10. Sin as the Greatest Eyil. 

— 11. Scientia Media Dei. — 12. Free Will. — IS.'Choice of two Infinities. — 14. Choice of 
Penalties. — 15 Infinite Motiyes. — 16. The Redemption. — 17. Pre-existence. — 18. Eter- 
nal Sinfulness.— 19. Law of Nature.— 20. Phrensy.— 21. Restraint —22. Twilight 67 

CHAPTER IT. — ETIL TEMPORARY. 
§ 1. Eyil not Needful. —2. The Frailty of Eyil. — 3. The Permission of Eyil. Theism. 

— 4. Is Eyil only Now? — 5. The Triumph of Faith 129 

CHAPTER T. — THE SCRIPTURAL ARGUMENT. 
§ 1. Is the ImmortaUty of the Soul a.';5z/??7erf in the Bible? — 2. Is the Immortality of 
the Soul implied in the Language of the Scriptures? — 3. The General Tenor of Scriptural 
Language respecting Man's Destiny. — 4. Passages supposed to proye the Immortality 

of the Lost. — 5. Circumstantial Eyidence 160. 

CHAPTER TI. — THE RATIONAL ARGUMENT. 
§ 1. The Metaphysical Argument. — 2. The Psychological Argument. — 3. The Moral 

Argument. — 4. The Analogical Argument 227 

CHAPTER rn.- SOUL AND BODY. 
§ 1. Matter and Mind. — 2. The Detention. —3. Do the Dead sleep? — 4. Resurrection 

of the Unjust 243 

CHAPTER Till.— THE HISTORICAL ARGTOIENT. 
§ 1. Eastern and Ancient Doctrine. — 2. The Grecian Schoo]s. — 3. The Popular Faith. 
The Pious Fraud. — 4. Fourfold Doctrine of the Immortality of a Class. — 5. Early 
Christian Doctrine. — 6. Man's Intermediate Nature. — 9. The Origin of the Conflict. — 

8. Results in the Eastern Church. — 9. Results in the Western Church. — 10. Jewish 
and Mediasyal Doctrine. — 11. Modern History 265 

CHAPTER IX. — PHILOSOPHY OF ERROR. 
« 1. Reflex Influence of Theodicy.— 2. Faith in Second Causes. — 3. The Temporal 
and the Eternal. — 4. The Unseen World. — 5. The Mystery of Sin. — 6. The Adyantages 
of Eyil oyer Good. — 7. Theory of Satisfaction for Sin. — 8. Theology of the Feelings. — 

9. Exegetical Causes. — 10. Sense of Human Deprayity. — 11. Lack of Faith in the Power 
of Goodness. — 12. Draco. — 13. The Notion of Punishment as specially Moral. — 14. Neg- 
atiye and Positiye Eyil. — 15. Anchorite Conceptions of the Heayenly State. — 16. Self- 
suspicion 357 

CHAPTER X. — HARMO:^ OF CHRISTLVN DOCTRINE. 
§ 1. Of Proyidence.— 2. Of Grace.- 3. Of Death.— 4. Of Original Sm. — 5. Of Pun- 
ishment. — 5. Of Pardon. — 7. The Redeemer 377 

CHAPTER XL— PARADOXES OF PENALTY. 
§ 1. Fear and Shame. — 2. Seyerity and Certainty. — 3. Mystery and Conyiction. — 

4. Eternal Death is Eternal Punishment. — 5. The Second Death. — 6. Far and Near. 

— 7. Wrath and Loye 405 

CHAPTER Xn. — THE MSSIONARY SPIRIT. 
§ 1. Ticarious Immortality. — 2. The Maternal Character of the Church. — 3. The 
Missionary Motiye. — 4. The Campaisming Spirit. — 5. A Test of Christian Character. — 

6. Gospel" for the Heathen 430 

CHAPTER XIII. —THE HIGHEST GOOD. 
§ 1. Life the True Good. — 2. Sensation and Motion. — 3. Thought. — 4. Free Will.— 

5. The Election. — 6. Tirtue. — 7. The Atonement. — 8. Faith. — 9. Love 446- 

LSDEX OF SCRIPXUIiJES REFEEEED TO p. viii. — IXDEX OF CITATIONS 469 



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